The Tretheway House
by princess peanut
Summary: Dean and Sam find themselves locked in a house with a very angry ghost. An unlikely person shows up to help them. NOW COMPLETE! Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural, but I'm borrowing them for now, for free of course.

Hello fellow fan fic lovers! Well, this is my first time posting here. I've posted at supernatural.tv, thought I'd give this a try. Hope you like it, and please if you feel so inclined, go ahead and leave me a review. I'd appreciate it!

Also, this takes place sometime after Something Wicked, but before the season finale. Kind of my own time line.

Chapter 1:

Sam glanced over at his brother, who was intently studying the road ahead of them, his barriers once again in place. Dean's last words to Sam were over three hours before they left the motel after Sam had opened his big mouth and said he wished he could have innocence again. It had shocked him to the bone when Dean had said he wished Sam could too. His voice had been laced with so much emotion Sam had been at a loss for words. Now he just felt stupid and ashamed. He laughed to himself. He always thought he had the carte blanche on guilt. And come to find out that Dean's guilt and sense of responsibility ran far deeper than his. And after all the crap that Sam had given his older brother for the last year, Dean didn't hold it against him. Even when Sam had tried to apologize Dean passed it all off. Sam had learned a new side of his brother during their hunt for the Striga. And he gained a whole new understanding for him. And he was truly sorry for all the crap he had given him about following orders. But the apology would never leave his lips. His brother wouldn't allow that. He was after all, just doing what a big brother was supposed to do.

Now they sat driving in silence, with Dean's music playing softly in the background. It was Ozzie Osborne's The Road To Nowhere and Sam was a little surprised Dean didn't crank it, but he was relieved. He knew the song playing backwards and forwards, thanks to Dean constantly playing it. And he did kind of like it. What he didn't like was that he had come to realize that the only time Dean played this particular song was when he was upset or had something on his mind. He wasn't sure if Dean even realized he did it.

"Hey Dean."

Dean glanced quickly at his brother then back to the road, "Yeah."

"How come you only play this song when you're upset?" Sam figured he wouldn't beat around the bush on this one.

Dean's scrunched up his forehead, "What are you talking about? I'm not upset."

Sam smiled, "That's the only time you play this song. I've noticed."

Dean shook his head, "I've got no reason to be upset Sam. I just like this song. Stop over analyzing everything."

Sam laughed, "Yeah yeah." His brother was so damn stubborn.

"How much further before we find our turn?" Dean asked him, purposely shifting the conversation back to the job at hand.

"Probably another twenty minutes. The sign will say Tretheway Road."

Dean nodded and relaxed back into his seat, enjoying the last of his song. He knew he always played this song when he had things on his mind. He felt like it was his song. It described his life, and it just made him feel better to hear it. And only his psychologist wanna be brother would figure it out. Damn, he was going to have to be more careful. It was bad enough he almost broke down in front of Sam when he told him how he had almost let his little brother die before. That kid was just too good at reading him, and he was only getting better. Dean knew he'd have to work harder to keep up his facade.

"So Sammy, how many people were killed at this place again?"

"Eleven. All of them pretty gruesomely too."

"And this was a what, a halfway house or something."

"Yeah, this old couple who owned the local convenient store bought the place and made it into a place for homeless to stay until they were back on their feet. They had a few runaways and a few mentally challenged people. Their three kids lived there too. All of them were killed in their beds."

"Figure we'll check it out in the daylight, get a room, then go back later tonight. Sound good?"

Sam nodded his agreement. "Hey, there's the turn off." He pointed to the right.

Dean took the turn and they were suddenly headed down an old country road, eyes scanning for the house. About two miles down they spotted it. Dean turned in the driveway and put the car in park. He turned to Sam and said, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

Sam had to laugh. "A bigger boat?"

"Yeah" Dean said waving his hand toward the house. "Dude, you said this was a halfway house, not a freakin hotel. Look at the size of that thing. Three stories! It's gonna take forever to go through it!"

Sam stared at the house, "Yeah well, I didn't know. But wer're here, so let's check it out."  
Dean nodded and got out of the car. Both boys made their way to the trunk and began loading up with the necessary weapons. "All right Sammy, one more time, give me the history."

"How many times have I told you already? Getting a little forgetful in your old age Dean?"

"Just do your job geek boy."

Sam shook his head and began following Dean to the house. "Okay, so back in 1986 there was this sweet older couple, The Wells, who had some kids. They owned the local convient store down the street, or did when it was there, whatever. They bought this place and made it a halfway house. People say they helped the homeless, they put people up here when they needed a hand, just an all around great American family. But seems old man Wells was a little bit of a freak. He was extremely strict with rules and manners, and was a big believer in punishment when someone broke the rules. They say he had some room in there where he would lock his kids for days on end without food or water. He would beat them. He beat his wife. He also started punishing the people who were staying here. The ones he was supposedly trying to help get back on their feet."

"Let me guess, I'm sure he thought he was doing God's work." Dean said.

Sam nodded, "That's what they say. So anyway, like I told you before, one day a family friend was coming over to visit and she found everyone in the house, everyone, dead. Said there was blood all over the walls, the floors, the place was tore up, and the bodies were pretty gruesome. All the kids were found in their beds with their bodies hacked up."

"Brings a new meaning to the words daddy dearest, don't you think?" Dean said sarcastically.

Sam shook his head, "Do you ever take anything seriously?" Before Dean could answer he added, "Technically there's no proof the dad did it. He was found in his bed with his throat slashed too. And the place has been abandoned ever since."

They reached the front porch of the old house. Dean pulled out his EMF and did a quick sweep of the immediate area. The old wooden porch creaked beneath their feet, half of the boards already broken away. A screen door hung on its hinges over the front door, looking as if it would fall any moment. There were a few broken windows and garbage laying around from loiterers. The lawn was dead and had turned to dirt, and any landscaping had crumbled away years ago. The fence was falling down and the paint on the house itself was chipping away. Not surprisingly there was caution tape strung over the front door and a sign from the city building inspection that notified of no trespassing and stated the house was condemed.

"Dude, if the place is this bad on the outside, I hate to see what the inside looks like." Dean said and Sam nodded his agreement. "This place should have already been buldozed down. Let's hope it doesn't fall down around us while we're in there."

They made slowly made their way across the porch and to the front door. To their surprise, it wasn't locked and opened with just a slight protest. Stepping inside the smell of must, mildew, age, and a few other rotten smells they couldn't identify attacked their senses. Sam and Dean scanned the immediate area, taking in the enormity of the room they were in. It looked as if the place had been left exactly how it was found after the murders. There were pieces of furniture, some covered with rotten sheets, knick knacks on tables, pictures hanging on the walls. Nothing had been removed after the murders. That also included the blood stains, which had now become permanent patterns throughout the house. Even though after all these years, the average person may not recognize the stains as blood, the boys knew what it was.

"I bet this place has rats." Dean said in disgust. "I hate rats."

Sam laughed, "Don't be a baby."

"Hey, I'm not a baby. I'm not the one who was scared of the dark."

"I was five years old you jerk!" Sam yelled in his defense, and Dean just laughed.

"Whatever. I say we split up and cover more ground, see what we can find. I'll start up top, you start down here. Sound good?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam agreed and watched as Dean made his way to the stair case. "But be careful! These floors and those stairs could be rotten!."

Dean waved his hand back at Sam, "Yeah yeah Mr. Doom and Gloom. I know how to be careful." But just to be the pain in the ass he always was and just to irk his little brother Dean bolted up the stairs as fast as he could, laughing all the way.

"You're a stupid jerk!" Sam yelled up to him.

"Shut up!" Came Dean's voice down the stairs.

Sam shook his head, "if Dad was here he'd kick your ass Dean," he muttered to himself. With a sigh he headed towards the living room. At the fireplace he stopped to look at the pictures that still adorned the mantel. A normal happy looking family was portrayed. How come some times looks are so deceiving, he thought. As he turned to scan the area he felt a sudden cold chill flow through the room. Then suddenly there was a soft roaring sound, and every door in the house began to slam shut in succession. Slamming hard enough to make the windows rattle. Sam quickly pulled out his gun and turned on the EMF. It was going crazy. He ran towards the stairs.

"Dean! Hey Dean, I've got something down here!" He called but received no answer. "Dean can you hear me!" Still no answer. For all Sam knew he could be up on the third floor and he probably wouldn't hear him. Cautiously he began to make his way up the stairs. The EMF was still going off like a siren. When he made his way to the top he came to a landing of sorts. To his left and his right was a hallway that seemed miles long. In front of him there was another staircase that led to the third floor. Looking up and down the hallway he could see all of the doors were closed. "Damn, this place is huge." Sam said to himself. "Dean! Dean where are you!" "Yeah, let's split up. You and your great ideas Dean." Sam muttered.

Just as he was about to make his way to the right of the hallway and start checking the rooms for his brother he heard the shotgun blast from overhead. "Dean!" He screamed. And without any more caution to the rotten floors than his brother showed earlier, he ran up the staircase to the third floor.

Sam bound up the stair with no regard to the creaking wood beneath his feet. Just as he reached the top he heard another gun blast from his right. He raced down the hallway to the only door that was there and threw it open, and found himself face to face with his brothers shotgun. Sam skidded to a halt.

"Dude, you want to get your head blown off!" Dean screamed as he immediately lowered the gun. "What the hell were you thinking!"

"Me? I was screaming your name and the only response I get is a gun shot! I thought you needed help!"

Dean shook his head, "I heard you Sam. But damn, next time you hear gun fire, maybe use a little caution before storming into the very room you're hearing it from!"

"If you heard me then why didn't you answer!" Sam screamed back, getting way too frustrated with this conversation.

Dean raised his eyebrows in and gave his 'duh' face and said, "Dude, I was a little busy with casper the unfreindly ghost! Sorry I didn't feel like a game of Marco Polo!"

Sam threw his hands up in frustration. "I give up!" Trying to get through to his brother was the hardest thing in the world, let alone trying get a real conversation with some type of content out of him. He looked back to Dean who was scanning the room with his EMF, which was now quiet. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or do I need to guess?"

"I was checking the room when the door suddenly slammed shut and my EMF went nuts. I turned around and came face to face with a very fugly baddy. The thing tried to go for my throat so I fired."

Sam instantly forgot his frustration with his brother and became concerned, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't touch me. You find anything?"

"Technically no."

"And that means?" Dean asked, his turn to be frustrated.

"Well, I was in the living room and I felt this coldness and then all the doors slammed and my EMF went off. I was trying to get your attention but I heard you fire so I came up here. So technically, I didn't find anything."

"Well excuse me Mr. Technical." Dean mocked. "Sorry to interrupt your plans."

Sam sighed, "Any reason your attitude and sarcasm is so amped up today?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Nothing. Never mind. Let's just get back to work." Sam said and walked out of the room.

"That's the first smart thing you've said today."

They re-entered the hallway and stopped. Their detectors had gone quiet and any uneasiness they felt earlier was gone. It now felt like any other ordinary old house. "You think we should do a little more research and come back tonight?" Sam asked.

"I guess." Dean said and started to the stairs. He really wasn't in the mood for this shit today. He was actually looking forward to a couple of days off after the Striga incident, but Sam just had to find that news article about the teenage couple that had been murdered here two weeks ago. And of course they were just another statistic in a long line of teenagers being hurt or killed at the house. But he couldn't turn it down no matter how much he wanted to. But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Sam hadn't been wrong to notice his attitude. He sighed. Get over it Dean, he told himself.

They took the stairs slowly this time taking notice at how weak they were and just how much they creaked. Sam also took notice at just how rickety the old banister was. "When we come back tonight we need to be extra careful Dean. There've been a lot of accidents here. We should bring a couple extra lights with us."

"Whatever you say." Dean said.

Sam shook his head. Hopefully his brother would be in a better mood after he got some lunch. Sam really did have a bad feeling about this place and Dean didn't need to be distracted. Keeping his voice light and trying to avoid another smart ass contest Sam said, "Let's get something to eat, do a little research then we'll come back and take care of business. Good?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm starving."

Sam had to laugh "When aren't you starving!"

They both laughed, their moods lightening a little bit. That was until they reached the front door, went to pull it open, and found that it wouldn't budge.

–TBC–


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Dean kicked the door as hard as he could. "Damn it! Just freakin' great!" He backed up and turned to go to the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"Well genius, I'd like to get outta here some time today, so I'm going to get a chair and break a window. Got a better idea?" Dean knew he sounded like an ass, but at this point, he didn't care. Baby brother could just get over it.

"Whatever Dean." As Dean disappeared into the kitchen Sam softly said, "You don't have to be such a jackass." As much as he felt like getting into it with his brother, he decided that at the moment, maybe it was better if he didn't hear that statement.

Dean returned a second later with an old wooden chair. Setting down his shotgun he lifted the chair back and with all his strength he crashed it into the window. And to both of their surprise, the window didn't break. Instead the legs of the chair shattered. "You've got to be kidding me!" Dean screamed, throwing the remains of the chair across the room. "What the fuck is this!"

"Dean calm down. I'm sure if we think a minute, we can figure out what's going on." Sam said as calmly as he could. Truth be told, he was a little more than freaked himself. But he told himself he needed to keep a calm head, since it seemed as though his brother couldn't.

"Calm down? Hello Sammy, look around, we're a little stuck in this shit hole, with very little weapons, and a very pissed off ghost. Do you really want to take the time to work on the drawing board, or do you want to get the hell out of here!"

Sam threw up his hands in frustration. "Yes, I want out of here, okay!" He screamed back. "And just how do you suppose we do that!"

Dean smiled his smile that was somewhere between a look of mayhem and evil, his eyes twinkling. "Follow me."

Dean began back up the stairs, keeping his gun pointed in front of him, eyes scanning for an attack. As the wood creaked beneath their feet, they moved slowly and actually watched where they stepped this time. It was amazing neither one of them fell when they were running down the last time.

Sam followed closely behind his brother only guessing what Dean had come up with. And knowing Dean, he wasn't going to like it. "Um Dean, mind telling me what you have in mind?"

"Scared Sammy?" Dean poked.  
"You know what, me and you are going to have a conversation later about this little attitude you've developed today, but until then, you mind filling me in, or are you gonna let me be surprised when we both get killed."

Dean's face flashed anger, "Thanks for the lecture Dad. If you must know, the only thing I can think of is the broken windows upstairs. Nothing to keep us from going through them."

"And just how are we supposed to get down?"

"Oh my God, do I have to spell it out for you! We jump!"

"What! It's two stories Dean!"

"Ah, it's not that far. I'm sure we can find a bush or somthin' to cushion our fall. Just trust me

Sammy."

Sam sighed. "Don't I always." He genuinely felt bad for sounding like he was lecturing. And he certainly didn't like being compared to his Dad. He bit his lip in frustration and decided to go along with his brother.

They went room to room and finally found one that had a broken window. Looking down they found that there was a small overhang they could probably land on and then safely make it to the ground. Of course, that being said only if the overhang held them. Sam looked at Dean and then back out the window. 

It didn't look too promising.

The boys continued to stare out the window to the ground below. Both knew it was their only way of escape, but neither one was anxious to make the jump. They would probably survive, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt.

Dean looked at Sam who wasn't doing a very good job at masking his apprehension. He let a smirk fall across his lips. Waving his hand he said to Sam, "Ladies first."

"Screw you." Sam replied. "I'm glad you find this funny." 

"Ah come on Sam, you gotta laugh a little. It's good for the soul."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "And what would you know about anything being good for you?"

Dean snorted, "And you said I had the attitude problem." Sam didn't reply. "Listen, it's now or never, let's just get it over with. I'll go first you big baby." He started to climb into the window sill. "Unless of course your 'special' senses say different."  
Sam rolled his eyes. "You don't have to be psychic to see that overhang probably won't hold you jerk. So I tell you what, you go first and if it holds I'll follow."

"You need some sleep Sammy, you're getting cranky." Dean laughed and was just about to jump when they heard a loud creaking and some pops, that sounded very much like wood breaking. As they watched below them, the overhang slowly collapsed, sending wood splintering below.

"Guess that answers that question." Dean said angrily. "Friggin' ghost. Maybe it's lonely." Dean said.

Sam began to pace. "This is bad Dean. We're stuck in here with barely any weapons and no real idea what we are facing!"

"That's because you didn't do your job. Research is your specialty. I'm the one who gets the job done."

"Like I said Dean, attitude. You are so full of it today. Can we think of something else to do now?"

"Find another place to jump!" Dean said, getting real frustrated at the no where conversation they were having. "Tell you what, we split up. When one of us finds a way out, we call the other."

"Why does your plans always involve us splitting up?" Sam asked. 

"Why do you ask so many questions."

Sam huffed and picked up his gun spinning on his heels and heading out of the room. "You know what, screw you. You can never have a normal conversation and I'm sick of it. Do whatever the fuck you want. I'm going to find a way out."

Dean rolled his eyes and watched his little brother storm out of the room. Things did seem to be a bit tense between the two today. He didn't really mean any of it. But god his little brother could be so pretentious, and all of his fucking questions! He was just so annoying Dean felt like smacking him around a little bit. He shook his head, why was he so angry? Could it be something else? He thought. "Ah hell, we're just around each other too much." Dean said to himself. "time to find a way out."

Sam made his way back down the stairs. He wasn't actually intending on trying to find a way out. He figured that since the downstairs had no broken windows, and Dean had proven they couldn't be broken and since the doors wouldn't open, there was no point of looking for an escape route down here. But he didn't care, he just wanted some space from Dean. God his brother was getting on his nerves today. His freaking attitude was making his blood boil. If they didn't have to worry about getting out of the damn house he would have decked his brother and started a fight! Sam was sure that hitting his brother would feel really good about now. 

Sam was wandering around what used to be the den, looking at the dusty old books on the shelf when he heard the whispering. He cocked his head, listening hard. He could barely hear it. It was coming from another room. Cautiously he made his way toward the voice. He still couldn't make out what it was saying. He found himself walking through the kitchen and into a small pantry. At the back of the pantry was a small door. The voice was definitely coming from there. In the back of his mind Sam knew he should get Dean. He shouldn't go through the door alone. But then his anger swelled at the thought of his brother only making fun of him again. "Screw Dean." he said aloud and opened the door.

Before a gasp could escape his lips, he was pulled into the darkness and the door slammed behind him.

Once again, thanks for reading. And hopefully you'll review. I love to hear everything, even criticism. So help me out here, have any observations to point out? Just let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Dean continued searching the second story, completely oblivious to what was happening downstairs. The place was huge. He felt like he had been walking down the hallway for hours now. Every room he checked proved to be no help. There were only a few broken windows, but each one he looked out didn't look too promising. The thought of jumping was suddenly being pushed to the back burner. Sam was right, it was a long way down, and neither one of them could do it without injury. "This sucks!" Dean screamed to no one. He picked up a vase on one of the dressers and threw it across the room, shattering the silence with the sound of breaking glass. He admitted, reluctantly, that it didn't do anything to help the situation, but he sure felt better.

Dean decided that the upper stories held no hope so he decided to make his way back downstairs to see if Sam had fared any better. He hadn't heard from his brother in a while. But he wasn't surprised. Sam could hold a grudge just as good as he could. Dean had to let a small smile cross his lips. He loved nothing more than aggravating the kid. It was just too damn easy. His little brother was wound so tight he was in danger of snapping any minute. Dean felt it his duty to bring some levity to their lives. How could he not? Their lives sucked so bad most normal people would have committed suicide by now. But once again that thought only reminded him of how much of a freak he really was. Then he felt bad again, because as much as he wanted Sam around, he didn't want his little brother to become a freak too. Too late, stupid, he thought.

"Time to see what the other little freak's up to." Dean said aloud. "Sammy!" He called as he started making his way down the stairs. He was halfway to the bottom when he heard the whisper behind him, calling to him. The old saying 'curiosity killed the cat' crossed his mind, but he pushed it aside and headed back up.

Meanwhile, Sam cracked his eyes open as consiouness slowly made it's way back. He found himself lying on a cold concrete floor. His head hurt like hell, but after a quick check of himself he found no other injuries. Cautiously he made his way up a wall to stand, finding that his legs would hold. He was dizzy, but it wasn't overwhelming. The room was pitch black but he just had a feeling it was very big. Slowly he made his way down the wall his hands searching for a light switch or the door. Then he laughed to himself, a light switch? No electricity stupid. He found a door, though he had no idea if it was the one he came through. He tried to turn the handle but it wouldn't budge. He was locked in. He thought for a moment about calling for Dean but thought again. First of all, his brother was probably still upstairs, and secondly, he was sure Dean was still pissed at him. Actually, he was still pissed at Dean. And he sure as hell wasn't about to 'need' his big brother again. He could handle himself. He would prove it.

Just as he was about to lift his foot back and give the door a swift kick a soft light began to shimmer in the room. He spun around, taking in what he saw. He was in a large pantry. One wall was covered in shelves, the others were empty and there was the one door. The one he came through and the one that was now locked. As he continued to stare the glow began to take on a form. Probably what was supposed to be a human form, but more fuzzy. But as it took shape, and took a face, it spoke.  
"You are trespassing." It stated. "This is my home."

"Technically, not anymore. You're dead."

"This home is still mine, and my rules will still be followed."

"What rules would those be?" Sam asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"To obey. To admit your wrong doings and to ask for forgiveness."

Sam swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even and calm, "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Trespassing is illegal."

"So is murder." He snapped. Shit, where did that come from? Not smart to piss off a ghost, he thought.

The fuzzy face flashed a smile. "Anger is not good for the soul young man. You must release it and seek forgiveness. I can help you release your anger and help you find forgiveness, help you start down the right path."

"Well Mr. Wells," because that's who Sam assumed that's who he was speaking to, "I'm not angry and I don't think I need your help."

"But you are angry. So is your brother. Both of you have so much anger and hatred for young men. I will help you release that and be free."

Sam was silent for a moment, letting what the ghost said sink in. Then it hit him, "Release our anger? Is that what's going on? You're the one making us mad?"

"Not mad. I'm helping you release your inner feelings so you can move on and be free. Just as I did for my children and the others I helped."

Knowing how well that had turned out Sam was even more anxious to get out of the house. No wonder him and Dean were hating each other right now. They always annoyed each other, but Sam had begun to feel genuine hatred for his brother earlier and couldn't understand it. Now he did. This guy really was a freak. And suddenly he was reminded of the Asylum and Dr. Ellicott. Oh shit. That had turned out way bad. He couldn't handle the thought of something turning him against Dean. Again. 

His mind began to whirl with something to try to get them out of this. His eyes scanned the floor, but there was no sign of his gun. Obviously it was left on the other side of the door. He had his knife on him, but what good would that do? The only thing was left was trying to reason with it. Yeah right you fool, he thought. But what else was there to do?  
"Look, Mr. Wells," He was trying to polite. This was ridiculous. "I'm sorry we trespassed. If you...uh.. just let us go, we promise not to do it again. We really are sorry."

Mr. Wells laughed, "Sorry? Trespassing is not your only crime boy. You have committed many crimes and many sins." It paused. "But you, I will deal with later. Your brother is first on my list."

Sam's eyes widened. "Leave my brother alone!"

Mr. Wells smiled, "I don't think I've ever met anyone who needs to be taught a lesson as much as that boy. He really is a bad seed." He laughed. "He will be the first one I have tried to lead the right way who is so far down the wrong path he may be too lost. But we will find out." With that his form flickered and then disappeared, leaving Sam in the dark once again.

"No!" Sam screamed. "Dean! Dean he's coming!" "Dean!"

Dean had reached the top of the stairs once again. The whispering was louder now, but he still couldn't pin point it. He stood perfectly still, his well trained ears and eyes searching for the source. Suddenly right in front of him a soft light flickered. He backed up, but only a few steps, and raised his shotgun. He ready for whatever was about to happen. But instead of being faced with the angry spirit of the old man, a small shape began to form. It was a little girl. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. He had faced spirits of children before, and usually they were harmless. But he still kept his gun aimed, just in case. Finally, after a few moments that small girl's form took full shape. She stared at Dean, actually her eyes were trained on the gun. She finally lifted them up to meet Dean's and a small smile formed across her lips.

"I won't hurt you." Her small voice stated, echoing throughout the hallway. "I know you are here to help. We need help."

"How do you know I am here to help, and who is we?" Dean asked.

"My brothers and sisters. They said you were here to help us go free. We are stuck here." She shook her head slightly. "I don't understand. But my brother says Daddy won't let us go, and we aren't supposed to be here anymore." She cast her eyes down and a sad expression formed on her face, "Daddy says we're bad and we have to learn our lesson. Will you help us?"

She may have been a ghost, but she was still just a little girl. A little girl trapped by her demented father. Dean felt a pain of sadness for her. "Yeah. I'll help you kid. Do you know where Daddy is?"

She nodded. "He's coming for you."

"Excuse me?"   
The little girl took a step closer and Dean took a step back. "He's going to punish you and your brother for being bad."

"What did you say? What about my brother? Where is he!" Dean demanded, anger making his voice thick.

The little girl took a step back, looking a little scared. "He locked your brother downstairs in the pantry. But he's coming up here first. He says you are bad boys. Are you?"

Dean didn't have time to answer. He took off running down the stairs to find his brother, his mind trying to wrap around what she had just told him. Punish us? Yeah right. Over my dead body, he thought. He reached the kitchen and yelled. "Sammy! Where are you! Sammy!"

"In here!" Came the voice of his brother. "The door won't open."

Dean ran to the sound of his brother's voice and found the door to the pantry. He tried to pull it open but it wouldn't budge. "Sammy! Stand back, I'm gonna blow off the knob!"

"I'm ready!" Sam replied.

Dean aimed and fired, blowing the kob away and opening a hole in the door. With a swift and well aimed kicked the door swung full open. He grabbed Sam, yanking him out of the small room. "You okay?" He asked, his eyes scanning for any injuries.

Sam shook his head, "Just a headache."

Dean forced him to turn around while he examined the back of his head. "No blood."

Sam pushed away, "Like I said Dean, just a headache. I'm fine."

Dean snorted, "Yeah, you're lucky."

"And what's that supposed to mean!" Sam said taking a step closer to Dean.

"It means, you're lucky you aren't dead stupid! What the hell kind of plan is that, huh! Getting yourself knocked out and locked in a room. There is a homicidal ghost on the loose Sammy! What if I wouldn't have found you!"

Sam clenched his jaw and his hands went into fists. "What, you think I can't take care of myself! I got news for you big brother. I'm not a baby any more. I'm perfectly capable of doing something on my own! Not to mention the fact that the homicidal ghost was already in here with me and I'm fine! You on the other hand, is his next target!"

Dean paused a moment, taking a step closer to Sam, anger flashing in his eyes. "You want to take care of yourself, Sam" He made sure not to say Sammy. "Then go ahead. Next time don't expect me to save your ass when you get yourself locked in a room." Sam was about to say something but Dean cut him off, "As for me." Dean stepped back and made a small circle raising his voice, "Come and get me bitch! I'm ready!"

"Dean! What the hell are you doing!"

"What Sam. You said it was after me! Well here I am!" He yelled and cocked his shotgun. "Come and get me!"

Sam grabbed Dean's arm forcing him to face him, "Stop it! You don't know what you're doing Dean. You don't even know what's going on! "

"I know enough Sam." Dean said jerking his arm out of his little brother's grasp.

"Dean, this guy was a real nut case. He likes torture and punishment. " Sam took a step back and a deep breath. He needed to calm down. The situation was getting out of control, and so was their anger at each other. But now he knew why, and he needed to control it. And he needed Dean to let him explain it before he got them both killed. "Dean, please, please stop for just a minute. I need to explain it to you."

"Sam, I know all I need to know all right."

"Oh yeah Dean. Why don't you tell me than, huh? You seem to have all the answers. Always the big shot know it all, do it all Dean." He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "Tell me, what's going on, how are we getting out of here, and how are we going to stop it?"

Dean didn't speak for a moment, just glared at his brother. He was trying extremely hard to fight the urge to smack him upside the head. Sam's only saving grace was that Dean didn't really want to add any more injuries to his brother's head. But oh that kid was grating on his last nerve. Taking a deep breath he turned suddenly and walked away from Sam. Something was happening. He could feel it. Dean had no misconceptions about himself. He knew he was an ass sometimes, and he knew he aggravated his kid brother, but he was beyond angry right now. He was boiling over with anger and a desire to hit something. He didn't understand what was happening and he didn't want that something to hit to be Sam, so he walked away. Out to the living room, wishing that Sam wouldn't follow. But of course, that wasn't about to happen.

"Dean." Sam called. He recognized the move. Dean was putting space between them before he blew. Sam could see the confusion in his brother's eyes. Sam knew what was happening, why their emotions were so amplified. He just had to make Dean understand. And quick, before Mr. Wells decided to make good on his threat. "Dean, please stop...I'm sorry." Sam apologized, hoping it would break through to his brother.

"Sam just get away from me. You said you can take care of yourself, then do it."

"Dean, I didn't mean it like that and you know it! Please just listen!"  
Dean spun around to face Sam, "Sam I..."

He never finished the sentence. Suddenly there was a blinding light and a flood of cold air rushed through the room. Mr. Wells appeared by their side. "Lesson number one 1 boys." He said.

Dean spun to raise his gun and fire, but before he had a chance both boys were lifted off their feet and sent flying in opposite directions of the room.

–TBC–

Okay everyone, thanks so much for the reviews! I really really appreciate them! I'll probably have quite a few more chapters up this weekend. I already have them done, so I want to get the posted and move on to new ones! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Sam hit the wall with a thud and landed with an even bigger thud. His head swam with dizziness again. He tried to lift himself up to see what was happening around him, but it just wasn't going to happen. He had no control over his body at the moment, and he lay there dazed. He heard a crashing sound and what he assumed was his brother's moans of pain, but he just couldn't open his eyes. I'm sorry Dean, he thought.

Dean hit the bookshelf full force and high, then landed on the glass table below him. He silently thanked whoever was listening that the table was covered with a sheet or he would have been cut up even worse. His back screamed out in pain as he tried to turn over. At the force he hit that bookshelf he thought for sure his back would have snapped, but once again he thanked that someone. Blinking rapidly to stay the tears of pain out of his eyes he looked up to find Mr. Wells standing above him. Oh great, he thought, this isn't going to be good.

"Now that I have your attention, let's begin."  
Without warning, well not a warning Dean would have liked, blue tinted surges of electricity came out of the ghosts hands and shot at Dean, hitting him square in the chest. And even as his back arched with pain and his jaw clenched he couldn't help but think, 'fuck, not another electrocution.' Just as he thought his body couldn't take another second the attack stopped.

Dean lay perfectly still, except for the quick rising and falling of his chest as he panted, trying to get his breath back. He couldn't help but think of where Sam was. He saw his brother hit the wall and fall hard, but he hadn't another sound from him, and he was beginning to panic. "The first part of the lesson is you admitting to your sins." Mr. Wells stated.

Dean unclenched his jaw, "Fuck off."

"Didn't your parents raise you any better boy? Have respect for your elders!" Once again the blue tinged lights found their way to Dean, causing him to scream out in pain. 

Finally Sam was able to open his eyes. All of his senses came rushing back at once. And the first thing he heard was Dean's cries of pain. Fighting the dizziness and nausea he bolted off the floor. He grabbed the wall, trying to keep his balance as the crisis before him reached his eyes. "Dean!" His brother's body was arching up off the floor, his jaw clenched shut, eyes rolling back in his head. Mustering every ounce of strength he could he pushed away from the wall, only stumbling slightly, and dove for the discarded shotgun. Praying that it would work, he stood, aimed, and hit his target dead on. The fuzzy shape that was Mr. Wells spun and gave him an evil look and then disappeared, along with his blue rays of electricity. Dean's body immediately relaxed, too much, and his eyes gave one last roll before they closed completely.

"Dean!" Sam ran to him, falling to the ground beside him, still unable to keep his own balance. But that didn't matter right now. Dean needed him. He grabbed Dean's face and cupped it in his hands. "Dean, can you hear me? Dean! Wake up!" He lightly slapped his cheeks and shook him, careful not to hurt him anymore. But his brother gave no indication he could hear him. Sam tentatively, with shaking hands, reached for Dean's neck and checked for a pulse. It was there. "Dean please! I don't know how long that rock salt will work. Wake up!" He screamed, this time slapping his cheeks a little harder. "Dammit Dean, don't fucking do this right now!"

Suddenly Dean took a large gasping breath and his eyes began to flutter. "That's it Dean. Open your eyes man."

Reluctantly Dean complied. He wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes close and enjoy the peace full bliss of the darkness. But Sam's voice, that whiny little voice, just kept pulling him away. "Dude, could you back up a little." His voice came out a little raspier than he would have liked. Finally he opened his eyes fully and through fuzzy eyesight he saw Sam hovering over him. Wasn't it not that long ago Sam hated him?

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam didn't fail to notice the way his brother's body trembled beneath him. Probably a result of the shock, he thought.

"What's with me and electricity?" Dean asked, letting a small laugh escape him, then wincing as pain shot through his chest, and head, and every where else.

Sam let out a loud sigh, "Can you move, we need to get you off this glass man."

Dean nodded and though he tried, his body wouldn't obey his commands and his eyes began to flutter closed again. "Hey, no, don't close your eyes. Come on Dean, I need your help here." Sam was terrified. The last time his brother had gone up against electricity his heart failed. What had happened this time? Sam grabbed Dean by his jacket collar and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Dean, try to stand up with me."

Dean grunted and complied, though as soon as he was up his body went limp and he began to fall forward. Sam caught him and helped him slide down the wall back to a sitting position, but thankfully away from the glass. He let his brother sit there a moment catching his breath, while he did the same. Sam rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as well. God, why couldn't the room just stop spinning, he thought. Suddenly he felt a hand against the side of his face. His eyes shot open and his body went on the defensive. But he realized it was Dean's hand. His brother was looking at him with unfocused eyes.

"You're bleeding Sammy." He rubbed his fingers near the wound on the side of Sam's forehead.

Sam smiled, "It's fine Dean. I'm a little more worried about you right now."

Dean's hand fell away and landed limply in his lap. "Just give me a minute." Dean saw the way Sam was looking at him. He smirked and said, "Don't worry, the old ticker's still working."  
Sam shook his head. "Not funny Dean. That was close. I don't know how long the rock salt will hold off that freak. We gotta think of something." Sam looked back to Dean and noticed his eyes were closed again. "Dean?"

"Yeah, I heard you." Dean took a deep breath and readied himself. Bracing his hands against the wall he slowly pushed himself up, "Okay, I'm ready." He reached a hand down to Sam to help him up.

Sam had to laugh. "Dean, do you even realize how much you are swaying right now?" Dean gave him a dirty look. "I can get up." Sam pushed himself up and was thankful that this time he had his balance. He was still worried about Dean. His brother had received quite an electric shock, again. But true to form Dean mustered up his strength and pretended to be fine. And just to show Sam how fine he was he walked to one of the tables and ripped a piece of sheet off. He walked back to Sam and preceded to attend to his little brother's head wound.

"Don't need to have you bleeding to death on me." He stated. Sam laughed again. No matter how much Dean said he hated chick flick moments, and mother-henning, Dean always made sure to take care of Sam.

Sam wondered if Dean even realized how much he was like what he claimed he hated.

When Dean was satisfied he had attended to Sam's head wound as much as he could he let himself lean back against the wall again and close his eyes. He needed a minute to think, to try and clear his head. But he was finding it so hard to concentrate and he just couldn't get his vision to clear. That freaking ghost had fried him pretty good. His entire body was shooting with pain. It was like his nerve endings were on fire. But he couldn't afford to slow down right now. He had to get them out of there. _Why couldn't that friggin' kid of done his research better. All they needed was to burn the bones, but no, Sammy had to take a nap in the car and didn't finish his job._ Dean shook his head. Dammit. He needed to keep his cool. Why was he so pissed? Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and his eyes flew open.

"You all right man?" Sam asked.

Could Sam look any more like a worried little girl, Dean thought. "Just give me a minute to clear my head Sam, " was what he said. 

"I'd love to Dean, but... I hate to sound like a broken record here...but...we gotta get outta here man. Who knows when it'll be back."

Dean gave him his classic smirk, "No shit Sherlock." Sam snorted his disapproval at Dean's reply. "Well, what the hell you want me to do Sam!"  
Sam took a step away from Dean and gathered their guns. He took a breath, and counted to ten, trying to remind himself to control his emotions. Not let the ghost amplify them. "First off Dean, I want you to listen to me for a minute, okay? Let me explain something." When Dean didn't interrupt, he continued. "Okay, so this Mr. Wells has a thing for punishment."

"No shit."

Sam ignored him. "But somehow he also has some kind of psychology complex. He thinks he's a shrink. He knows how to take our anger and amplify it. He said he releases anger to help free you." Sam paused for a moment, letting the revelation sink into his brother's thick head.

After a sigh Dean said, "Are we talking like Ellicott help?" Sam nodded. "Great." Dean let out a laugh.

Sam was stunned, "What about all of this do you find funny?"

"I was just thinking. I've now been electrocuted twice. And if this dude is like Ellicott, does that mean I'm gonna get to get shot with rocksalt again?"

Sam didn't know what to say. That wasn't funny. And that wasn't going to happen, again. He needed to come up with a solution fast. He wasn't sure what to do, and his brother didn't look like he was going to be up for a battle anytime soon. It was up to him. He looked at Dean again, who had once again closed his eyes. Sam was worried that shock had caused some damage. It had to have. He reached up and touched his head. It was starting to throb even worse. He was pretty sure he had a concussion. And damn, his back was starting to hurt too. He sighed, coming up with only one real solution. To get out the quickest way they could. And that, of course, would mean going back to Dean's original solution. Back upstairs, and jump. They would survive the fall with minor injuries, but he knew they weren't going to survive in the house.

"All right, come on Dean." He grabbed Dean's arm and started to pull him along side. He didn't like how slowly Dean was moving, and how limp his arm was.

"Where are we going Sammy?"

"Well... and don't say I told you so. Cause God help you if you do...We're gonna jump." 

Dean let out a small short laugh, "It's time you grew a pair."

Sam sighed. He bit back his retort, even thought he felt his anger level rise. But he reminded himself this was his brother. And he reminded himself that no matter how annoying Dean was, he was never truly mad at him in his heart.

Dean slowly followed behind Sam, his head cast down. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to force himself to walk up the flight, but he didn't want to say anything to his brother. He didn't have a choice any way. They were half way up the stairs when Sam stopped abruptly causing Dean to bump into him. "What the...?"  
Sam pointed his gun at the little girl who had suddenly appeared at the top of the staircase. He wasn't taking any chances.

"You again." Dean stated to Sam's surprise.

The little girl looked up with her big sorrowful eyes. "Did my daddy hurt you?"

"Yes he did." Dean answered.

"Will you still help us?"

"Love to honey, but we need some help ourselves. Think you could help us too?" Dean asked.

Sam, who had stayed quiet so far said, "Met before?" He asked Dean nodding towards the kid.

But Dean ignored him. "Can you show us a way out?"

"My brother used to sneak out of the attic when he was little. Whenever Daddy would punish us he would hide and then get out."

This caught Sam's attention. Maybe there was a safe way out. "Will you show us?" He asked.

"I don't know where it is. But my brother said you need to hurry. He's talking to Daddy, but he's very mad. He's going to back for you soon." She started to fade away.

"Wait! Sam called. Where is your brother? Can he help us."

The little girl walked to a small window and pointed out then dissappeared. Sam ran up the final steps to the window to see what she had pointed to. With the sun shining he could barely make it out over the glare. But far in the distance were a bunch of trees. And if his unfocused eyes weren't playing tricks on him, he saw headstones. "Dean, it's a cementary!" He called back. "I bet that's where he's buried!" He turned back to find Dean had reached the top of the stairs but had sunk to his knees with his head down. "Dean!" Sam ran to him, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Stay with me man."

Dean looked up at Sam. And for the first time since they had been in that hell hole of a house he didn't feel any anger. He felt like his old self, like the big brother he normally was. And suddenly all his normal instincts kicked in, and so did the worry for his little brother. "Sammy. Get outta here. Go burn the bones."

"What? Are you telling me to leave you here? Cause that's not gonna happen." Dean didn't respond, he just sighed. Sam felt a new wave of panic wash over him. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"I...don't think I can make it up to the attic Sam." Dean hated that he had to admit how weak he was feeling. He couldn't stand doing that to Sam. But he also couldn't hold his baby brother back if there was a chance for him to get out to safety. "I'll keep him busy. Burn the bones and then we'll both get out of here."

Sam was adamantly shaking his head, "No. No way. We're going together, even if I have to carry your ass."

"Damit Sammy. Any other time your Mr. Logical. Don't start this shit right now!"

"What shit! What, I shouldn't act like I give a damn about my brother? I'm supposed to leave you here to get deep fried again!"

Dean's breathing was becomming faster, he was feeling that anger rise up again. I wonder if that means he's back? he thought. "Sam listen to me! Stuff the emotional shit right now and focus on the job! Focus on keeping us alive! Right now that means since you're able, you get the fuck out of here and burn the bones!"

"I'm not leaving you! So get it through that feaking' thick headed stubborn skull of yours!"

Dean mustered up a small bit of strength and gave Sam a weak shove. "Get out while you can you idiot! You aren't gonna die because of me!" Dean was panting now. He was getting dizzy and felt on the verge of passing out. Fuck! He always knew he was a magnet, but he thought it was for women, not electricity! God, he couldn't believe how much getting a jolt could fuck you up.

Sam watched his brother, and it didn't go un-noticed how much weaker he was becoming. His skin had turned pale and he had begun to sweat and breathe heavier. Sam was sure he was going to pass out any minute. Their emotions were getting out of control again. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that wasn't a good sign. It probably meant Mr. Wells was near by or on his way. Taking a deep breath and keeping his voice low and even he said, "Dean. Please. Please let me get us out of here. Together. You can't ask me to leave you behind. I can't do it." He gave his brother's shoulders a slight squeeze and gave him a light smile. Adding a more pleading tone, "Please Dean. I can't leave you." Taking advantage of his brother's weakened stated he knelt down a little further and slipped Dean's arm over his shoulder. When Dean didn't protest he pulled them to their feet. "Okay, up to the attic. We can do this Dean."

Dean tried to mumble something but he couldn't quite get the words out. He leaned on Sam more than he would have liked, but there would have been no way he would have stood up alone. Sam should have left him. He knew Sam could have been out by now if he wasn't lugging his pathetic big brother along with him. But he never could refuse Sam when his voice took that pleading tone. Never could.

Halfway up the second flight of stairs Dean knew he couldn't make it. Sam was practically dragging him now. "Sam stop." Dean whispered.  
"No."

"Sam, you gotta stop. Your head's starting to bleed again. You can't keep hauling me."

"Yes I can. Now shut up and keep your ears open. I'm sure he'll be back anytime." It was getting harder for Sam to keep pulling his brother. His head was throbbing so hard he could feel the pulse beating above his eyes. His vision was still a little blury and his back was screaming in agony with every step. But he could push it all down. He had to. No way were the Winchesters going down in a stupid run of the mill haunting. No way. Finally they made it to the last step and found themselves facing a door. Sam manuvered Dean to the wall. "Stand here till I get it open." Dean nodded, his eyes only halfway open.

Hoping for a bit of luck Sam tried the handle. He almost laughed out loud when it turned and the door opened. Since when did things go their way? But oh he was glad it did. Grabbing his brother again they headed into the attic. It only had a few small windows so the sunlight wasn't as strong in there. Shadows bounced off the walls everywhere. The room was huge. And it was full of junk and furniture. Great, Sam thought. Where do we start to look for the escape? 

"Couldn't be easy, could it?" Dean spoke up.

Sam laughed, "Not for us." He moved Dean towards a chair and sat him down. "Sit here. I'll start looking around." Dean didn't respond or argue with him. Of course, this only pushed Sam's panic button. "Dean!"

His head snapped up. "Yeah. Just for a minute...til I catch my breath."

Sam tried to push his concern down for the time being. He had to find that escape route. He began at the door and started making his way down the wall. Worried about his brother he started talking. He didn't want Dean to become unconsious. "So what are you thinking Dean? Trap door, secret passage? Dean!"

"Who knows. Maybe there's a slide we can go down."

"That would be cool." Sam replied.

Dean was trying incredibly hard to keep his eyes open, to stay alert. But it was becomming harder. He thought maybe if he stood up and moved he would feel better. He braced his hands on the arm rests and pushed himself up. "Okay Sam...I'm gonna help you look."

Before Sam could answer there was that familiar flash of light. Mr. Wells appeared in front of Dean. In surprise Dean went to step back and hit the back of his legs on something causing himself to fall. He hit his head and the last thing he remembered hearing was Sam calling his name.  
"Dean!" Sam screamed as he ran towards him. He was just beginning to aim the gun when Mr. Wells brought up his arm and Sam was hit with the feeling of flying. He felt the wall behind him, but just as he hit it, he felt it give. Then he felt the falling sensation, and that familiar feeling of landing, incredibly hard. He groaned and tried to push himself back up as fast as he could. But he was too late. Mr. Wells was already standing over him.

"You boys are in a lot of trouble. You didn't cooperate with the lesson, and now you will be punished."

Sam was trying to scoot backwards, towards his gun. "Yeah, cause we haven't already been punished enough." He said sarcastically.

"Such insolence." Mr. Wells said shaking his head, "It's a shame that children aren't raised the right way anymore. Swearing, talking back, sexual activity, loud music. You'd be surprised what I've seen come through here. And I've taught them all a lesson that was in dire need of learning."

"The right way? I think child abuse falls under a different category." Sam kept his eyes trained on the ghost, but he knew he was just about to his gun.

"Abuse? I have never abused. I have taught lessons and shown the way to forgiveness. Children must be lead down the right path in order for them to succeed as adults."

Sam's fingers grazed the gun. But just as he was about to fully grab it he felt himself pinned by an invisible force to the spot. Mr. Wells walked to him. He picked up the gun and threw it behind him. "We won't be needing that young man." With a wave of his Sam was lifted up and pushed against the wall face first. "Now let's talk about your sins. What shall we start with?" he paused, then got real close to Sam and whispered in his ear. "How about lying? Like the way you lied to your girlfriend and how you let her die because of it."

Sam sucked in a breath. He hated the way these things could get into your mind. He so didn't want to go there. He knew his life with Jessica was nothing but a lie. But he loved her. He didn't mean for her to get killed.

"We will start with ten lashings for your lies. Then you can ask for forgiveness." Mr. Wells said. To Sam's horror he saw out of the corner of his eye a belt appear in the ghost's hands. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, preparing for what he knew was coming.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

_Whap! Whap!_ Two down, eight to go Sam thought. Damn that hurt. He still wasn't sure how his jacket had been ripped off to expose only the thin t-shirt he was wearing. His only thought was trying to get himself off the damn wall. But he just couldn't move. _Whap!_ Geez, this guy was serious about his punishment. He continued to strain against his invisible ropes. His muscles felt like they were about to rip from the effort. He could hear the ghost saying something to him as he hit him again, but he didn't pay attention to the actual words. All he could think of was getting off the wall, getting Dean and getting the hell out of there. He was willing to jump from the attic window if necessary. He was really ready to burn those bones now. That thought brought a small bit of joy to him. He couldn't wait to send Mr. Wells to hell, where he belonged. _Whap!_ That one hurt. He was sure the skin on his back ripped with that one. 

"Maybe this will make you think before you disrespect your elders again boy." Mr. Wells was saying.

Doubt it, Sam thought. He heard the whoosh of the belt being taken back to strike again and he tensed his body. But the blow didn't come. Suddenly he heard a click and then the familiar sound of a gun blast. A smile formed over his lips. _Thank you Dean_ he thought. His body was suddenly released and he sunk to his knees. Dean was beside him in a second.

"Sammy. You okay?" Dean asked as he examined his back. Blood was starting to trickle from two of the wounds.

"I'm fine Dean. What took you so long?" 

Dean snorted. "Excuse me, I was a little unconcious at the time." He helped Sam to his feet. "Let's get the hell out of here and burn that fucker."

"I second that." Sam said. But when he turned to look at Dean he froze. His eyes froze on the blood that was flowing down the back of his brother's neck and pooling on his shoulder. "Shit Dean. Let me see how bad it is."

Dean waved him off, "It's fine Sam. Worry about it later." Sam didn't falter from his stare. "I hit the corner of that chest over there when I fell. It's fine."

"It's bleeding bad Dean. It's not fine."

Dean sighed, "Do we really have time for this right now Sammy?"

Sam let his gaze fall, "No we don't." He grabbed his jacket and put it on, and also grabbed his own gun. "I tell you what we will have time for though." Dean gave him a questioning look. "When we are done here, we're taking a break Dean. A real break with no hunting."

"Whatever dude." Dean replied.  
The boys slowly began to search the attic again, both moving more sluggish than usual. And as usual they each continually shot worried glances to the other. After about ten minutes of fruitless searching Sam was ready to give up when he noticed something behind a wooden bookshelf. "Dean come here." With a small shove Sam moved the bookshelf down and found a small door behind it. With a silent prayer that this is what they were looking for he pulled the door open to reveal a hallway.

"A secret passage? You've got to be kidding me." Dean said as he came up next to Sam.

"Hey, I don't care how cliche it is, we're taking it. Let's go."

---------------------------------------------------------------

He stood at the front door. It wouldn't budge. There was no way he was going to get in that way. But that was okay, he always had a back up plan. He was surprised to see them here. Of course, he shouldn't have been, he always knew where they were. But still, he hadn't checked on them in a couple of weeks, and to find them here at the same time was a shock. They needed help, but first, he had to get in.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Dean and Sam gathered what strength they had left and slowly began to make their way down the stairs. The sun was starting to go down now and the hallway only had a few small windows and it was beginning to get hard to see. Both boys were hurting and finding it difficult to make the journey. They were low on ammo and had no flashlights. Sam was beginning to get nervous. _God, I hope this isn't the job that finally takes us down_, he thought bitterly. Unlike his brother, Sam wasn't hoping to go down in a blaze of glory, yet he didn't want to be taken out by some mental case ghost. He sighed. Had he done his research like he was supposed to, they would have been more prepared. But he didn't and they were caught off guard. And now they were paying the price for it.

Sam glanced behind him to his brother who was leaning heavily on the wall as he made his way down. He could see that Dean's leg were shaking and his breathing was rapidly increasing. Sam could only imagine what that shock had done to him. But then again, he didn't really want to. He remembered too well what happened the last time. And though it didn't seem as though this was as bad, it was still bad. Sam shook his head. Dean was trying to be strong, but Sam didn't think he could last much longer being on the move. He had tried to let his big brother lean on him, take some of his weight. But of course Dean being Dean, he was too worried about Sam and his injuries. He refused to touch Sam, worried he would hurt his back even more. Even though it went against his better judgement Sam stopped suddenly.

"Let's stop for a minute." He said to Dean.

"Dude, we need to keep moving. Big bad freak trying to kill us, trapped in here...any of this ring a bell? Stopping isn't the best option Sammy." He tried to hide it, but Dean was definitely out of breath. Still, it wasn't a good idea to stop.

"I know Dean...but..." Sam felt bad, but once again he was going to use Dean's overprotectiveness of him only to protect his brother in return. "I need to stop for a minute Dean. My back and head are killing me."

Sam saw the concern wash over Dean's face. He felt guilty, but his brother's health came first.

"One minute Sammy. That's all. Then we suck it up and move on. Got it?"

Sam nodded.

Dean was silently thankful that they stopped. He leaned against the wall and put his head back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Regretting it the minute he did. As out of breath as he was, it only made everything hurt worse. At this point he could have stopped there for hours and just go to sleep, but he had to get Sam out. He figured with the hit to the head Sam took, he probably had a concussion, and even though Sam's jacket was covering it at the moment, Dean knew his back was probably looking pretty bad. Dean let a small smile play across his lips and inwardly laughed a laugh of pride. He knew that belt had to hurt like a son of a bitch, but his little brother never made a sound. He stood strong. Dean was proud of him. Of course, he never should have been in that situation in the first place, and Dean would never vocalize his affection, he still felt proud of Sam. Even though his little brother would deny it until he turned blue in the face, Sam was a great hunter. He was a natural. And Dean could never ask for a better partner.

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He found just what he was looking for. The little concoction he had made a few weeks ago was going to come in handy. Right now a stick of dynamite wouldn't open that house up, but this would. He smiled at his handy work. Time to get down to business.

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Sam took a deep breath, steadied himself, then pushed himself back up. His back was really starting to stiffen up now and his head was still throbbing, but they couldn't sit much longer. Who knew what else Mr. Wells had in store for them. Besides, they had already made it down one flight, they didn't have much further to go. He just prayed that there was an opening they could make it through waiting for them at the end. He looked at his brother. Dean's eyes were closed, but his breathing had evened out some. Lightly he touched Dean's shoulder.

"Ready?"

Dean nodded. "You okay?"  
Sam smiled, "Don't start with the worry about Sammy game, okay. Let's just get the hell outta here."

After what felt like an eternity they finally reached the bottom floor. They both felt exhausted. As they entered into a small hallway they found themselves faced with three doors. There were no windows here and the darkness was beginning to overcome the hallway.

"So what now, eenie meenie miny moe?" Dean asked pointing to the doors.

"Let's give them all a try. One of them has to lead out." Sam started towards one of the doors and just as he reached for the knob that familiar bolt of light came again. He spun around quickly to find that Mr. Wells had positioned himself between the brothers. Suddenly the door behind Dean opened, and in the blink of an eye Dean found himself being lifted off his feet and going through the opening. The door slammed shut in front of him.

"Dean!" Sam screamed. He raised his gun to shoot but Mr. Wells had already disappeared. But Sam did hear his voice.

_I told you boys you would be taught a lesson. You will not be free to leave until that lesson is learned and forgiveness is begged for. _

Then all was quiet. Sam ran to the door his brother had disappeared behind, but of course, it wouldn't budge. He pounded his fists screaming Dean's name, but he got no response. The silence was deafening. He ran to the other two doors, but found that none of them would open either. In frustration he screamed and slammed his fist into the wall. Not knowing what else to do, and having no where else to go, he turned back to the stairs and headed up. He took the steps two at a time, ignoring the searing pain running through his body. His only thoughts were on his brother.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

He heard the scream. For a moment it caused him to stop cold. They were in trouble. He had assumed as much before, but now to have it confirmed, to the scream of agony, it made his heart clench. He gave himself a mental shake and forced himself to move faster. He needed to get in there, now!

-TBC-


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

He took the mixture into the palm of his hand and spread it on the door reciting the chant he had memorized. With a silent prayer he tried the knob. It opened easily. Cautiously with gun drawn and holy water within reach in his pocket, he stepped through the threshold. It was quiet. Too quiet. The boys were not in sight. He stepped a little further in and the door slammed shut behind him. He turned quickly and tried to re-open it, but it was to no avail. _Damn it!_ Obviously the spell only worked one way. _Wish someone would have told me that!_

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Sam flew back into the attic. He scanned it quickly. When there was no sign of the ghost or his brother he headed out. His mind was whirrling with worry. There were so many rooms in this place and three floors. He only prayed he could find Dean before it was too late.

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Dean opened his eyes slowly. His vision was blurry, but he could make out that he was in a bedroom. And he was laying on a bed. He didn't remember any bedrooms on the first floor. He figured he must of been up on the second or third. How the hell did he get up there? His eyes continued to scan, looking for any sign that his brother was with him. He saw nothing. Peering to the window he could see that the sun was down now, only slight remnants of light remained, but they would be gone in a few minutes. Letting out a frustrated sigh he tried to sit up, and was unpleasantly surprised to find his hands tied down. He looked at both of his wrists and found them wrapped in rope that led to under the bed. He couldn't move them. He looked to his feet and found them tied too. _Just fucking great_ , he thought. He wondered what happened to Sam. Please be all right, he thought. I'm sorry I failed you. He felt his eyes begin to close again.

But as was inevitable, and just the Winchester luck, Mr. Wells was suddenly standing over Dean, looking down at him with those wild eyes. Dean suddenly laughed, bringing a look of confusion to the ghost's face.

"What do you find so funny young man?"

Dean laughed harder, "You're not even fucking real. I'm laying here looking at your eyes, and they aren't even real. You're dead you stupid bastard. And you don't even get how not real you are." He laughed again. He figured he was delirious, but he didn't care. It was ironically funny.

"You won't be laughing for long. We have some unfinished business."

"And that would be?" Dean asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"You need to atone for your sins. I am here to help you find the right path."Dean rolled his eyes. "You young man have broken every law of the Bible and the ten commandments."

Dean released a small laugh. "Yeah, cause you should be talking about the bible. You murdered your own fucking family. You murdered strangers. And you're going to hell." Dean smiled his evil smile, "And I'll be sending you there."

Mr. Wells laughed at this, "Let's begin." He began to walk back and forth from each side of the bed to the other. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who's been as full of sin as you. Where to begin?" He stopped and stared straight at Dean, "How about lying. You're an excellent liar. Having a forked tongue comes so easily to you."

"Yeah, it's called survival." Dean spit out.

"My dear boy, haven't you learned anything yet. You will be punished for your sins until you ask for forgiveness." With that Dean felt that familiar agonizing jolt. His body arched against the bed, his jaw clenching. But fortuneatly for him, it didn't last long. His body slumped deeper into the bed. "Do you have something to ask for young man?"

"I could really go for a beer." Dean spat back.

Mr. Wells shook his head and backhanded Dean across the face. "You will learn respect." Just as Dean thought another jolt was coming his way Mr. Wells turned his back on him and faced the door. He stood still for a moment as if listening to something. Then he turned back to Dean, "I'll be right back. I need to take care of something first."

He disappeared. Dean knew he was probably going after Sam. He tried with everything he could to move, but his body just wouldn't obey his commands. He felt the sudden urge to close his eyes and allow the darkness to take him. He wanted to fight, but he just couldn't. 

-------------------------------------------------

He felt the rush of cold air. He knew it was coming. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the holy water and uncapped it. He was prepared for what it was going to throw at him. He knew all about this bastard. Just as the light appeared and the outline of Mr. Wells took form he doused it with holy water and said the memorized latin words. The ghost hissed and disappeared. He smiled. That didn't kill it, but it would keep it away for a good long while.

As he was about to turn his attention back to the door he heard a familiar voice. 

"Dean! Where are you!"

It was Sammy. Forgetting about the door he headed up the rickety stairs towards the youngest's voice. The darkness had finally decended on the house. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it ahead of him. When he found himself at the landing to the second story he stopped to listen again. He heard Sammy's voice again calling for his brother. And he heard his footsteps. He was on the floor above him. It had to be almost pitch black up there, how the hell could he see anything?  
He headed up the next flight of stairs.

-------------------------------------------------------

Sam had frantically been throwing open every door along the hallway screaming for his brother. "Dean!" The fucking silence was killing him and the darkness was making his search almost impossible. He had to actually enter every room to see if his brother was there. It was taking too much time. Time he feared Dean didn't have. He came back to the beginning of the third floor and stood at the landing. He wasn't sure if he had checked behind every door this floor had, but he had been calling for Dean and got no answer. He decided to take a chance and head down to the second floor.

He took the steps in easy strides, skipping some as he went, but fearing the creaking noises that came every time he put his weight down on one. He had suddenly realized just how long the stairs were. This was an old house, and a very tall house. All of the stairs were long and steep. They didn't make houses like this anymore, he thought. Just as he was halfway down he heard a shuffling noise. He was tempted to call out for his brother, but he bit down on his lip. There was every possiblity it wasn't Dean. He stopped and ducked down when he saw a large beam of light coming his way. The light made it's way to the bottom of the stairs, and then suddenly it was shining right on him. It was bright. So bright he couldn't see what was behind it. But then he heard the voice.

"Sam?"

He looked up, his eyes as wide as they could be in surprise. Could it really be?  
"Dad?"

"Sammy, are you okay?" John asked as he headed up the few steps towards him. He reached his youngest son and reached out to embrace him, which totally shocked Sam. This was so unlike his father. Not that the man never showed them affection, but he usually wasn't that forthcoming with hugs. But Sam was so tired and mentally drained he was thankful, and he didn't hold back.

That was until his Dad tried to pat his back. "Ow!" Sam yelled and flinched back. 

Immediately John was alarmed, but he kept his cool. "Where are you injured?" He asked shining the light directly on Sam.

Sam looked down, embarrassed by showing his weakness in front of his father. "It's nothing. I'm fine. Really. Just a little sore."

"Don't lie to me Sam. I need to know how bad you are injured."

Sam sighed, it was no good to lie to his Dad. He would be able to see right through him, and he wouldn't let it go until Sam spoke up. Sam smiled, Dean was a lot like him. "I hit my head earlier, but it's just throbbing a little. My back is a little worse."

"Let me see it."

"Dad, it'll keep until we can get out of here."

"Don't make me ask again Sam." His father replied, with that familiar military stern voice.

"Fine." Sam relented. He turned around and lifted up his jacket and t-shirt. 

John hissed at the sight of his child's back. "Damn it Sam." Although he wasn't really blaming him. "You may need stitches. " He gently put Sam's clothing back down. "Where's your brother?"

Sam's gaze fell to the floor. Quietly he said, "I don't know."

"You don't know? Explain."

"The ghost took him. I looked on the third floor." He shook his head, "I'm sure I missed a few places, but I don't think he's up there."

John could sense his younger son's frustration and worry. "Don't worry about Dean. He'll be fine. He always is." He gently touched Sam's shoulder and started to lead him down the stairs.

"Dad, how did you get in, and why are you here?"

"Long story Sammy. I'll tell you later. Where's your flashlight? We're gonna need more light."

"I don't have one." Sam admitted, bracing for the lecture he knew was about to come.

"What do you mean you don't have one." John stopped and looked Sam over again. "And where the hell is your stuff. All I see is one shotgun. Where's your supplies?"

Sam sighed, "We didn't bring in anything but a couple guns. We weren't planning on staying. We were just gonna check it out and come back tonight. We didn't expect it to turn out like this."

A stern look came across John's face. "You didn't expect? You came in here unprepared! What the hell did I spend all these years teaching the two of you!"

"Dad...can we not do this right now..."

"Don't Dad me! I told you, always be prepared! Always! Damn it! Dean knows better than that!" 

"Don't start assigning blame Dad!" Sam took a step back and mentally counted to ten. They didn't have time for this shit. "Look, yell at us all you want later. Right now, can we please go find Dean, and then leave!"

John huffed and started down the stairs, leaving Sam to trail behind him. "Right now we are getting out of here and go out back to salt and burn the damn bones."

Sam stopped abruptly. "What! I'm not leaving here without Dean!"

John turned to face his son. "Look Sam, I got rid of old Mr. Wells for the time being. But he will be back, and he will try to keep us from getting out. The only way to help your brother is to get rid of that son of a bitch!" 

Sam was furious, he really wished he could deck his father right now. He was bringing back all of the old memories of what made Sam leave in the first place. "Do you even care that your son might be dying somewhere in one of these rooms!"

"Dammit Sam! Of course I care! But wasting time right now is not going to help him! The ghost is out of the picture for now, we need to get rid of it permanently! Then we'll be able to help your brother. And right now you are wasting time acting like a child throwing a tantrum!"

Sam stood tall and faced his father with a face of stone, "You listen to me Dad. I am no longer a child who needs to obey your orders. Dean and I have been just fine this last year without you. You may care more about the job than us, but that isn't how _we_ play the game. I _will not _leave here without him. Do you understand that?"

John was a little taken back. He and Sam had always clashed, ever since the kid knew how to talk. But his son had just stood up to him in a way he never had before. Like a man. And although John was mildly impressed, he was at the same time furious. They were wasting precious time standing here arguing. And if Dean was hurt, they could be costing him minutes. But his little spell would only repell that damn ghost for so long. He sighed a large frustrated sigh. As much as the marine in him told him to get the job done quickly and then help the wounded, the father in him couldn't let his sons' down. Again. He looked Sam in the eyes, and saw the anger boiling. "All right Sam. We make this fast."

Sam nodded. "Good. Like I said, I checked upstairs and the attic. Let's start on the second floor."

John agreed but before they headed out he reached into his pack. He pulled out a vial of holy water and another gun and handed them to Sam. "I plan on repeating a few of the basic rules as soon as this is all over."

Whatever, Sam thought, but he didn't vocalize it. He was just glad they were going to find Dean first. His Dad could be a prick sometimes, but even though they argued, Sam knew that deep down his Dad loved them. He was just too emotionally challenged to show it.

Dean slowly opened his eyes. At first he thought maybe he was blind, and for a moment he began to panic. But then he realized that it was just that the sunlight was gone. His head was spinning and there wasn't an inch of his body that didn't hurt, from the inside out. His mind was fuzzy and he was having trouble remembering everything that had happened to him. But there was one thing he couldn't forget. The electricity. God he was tired of electricity. How much more could his insides be scrambled? Oh well, he thought, at least I'm still breathing.

Slowly he tried to sit up and that's when he remembered he was tied down. _Shit!_ Slowly and deliberately he began to twist his wrists. The rope was tight and it quickly started to rub his wrists raw, but he had to ignore the pain. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, and he had no idea where Sam was. Or if Sam was alive. That last thought got him even more motivated. He wildly fought at his restraints. He felt the rope become slick with his blood, but he kept pressing on.

After what seemed like an eternity he felt the right rope loosen. "About time" he said aloud. He was a little surprised at how hoarse his voice was. He suddenly realized how thirsty he was. He swallowed and his throat was so dry. He pushed those thoughts away. _No time to think about yourself idiot._ With one final hard tug he managed to slip his right wrist out of the rope. He reached over to his left and undid it, then moved to his feet. His wrists were dripping blood but he ignored it as he heaved himself off the bed. When he first tried to stand upright his jello-like legs wouldn't hold him and he crashed to his knees. Gasping for breath he steadied himself and tried to stand again. This time he succeeded in staying upright. Slowly, with his hands out in front of him, he shuffled his way around the room looking for the door. When he finally found it he cautiously tried to open it. It opened with ease. "Finally something is going right."

He made his way to the dark hallway. He wasn't sure what floor he was on or where the stairs were. He took a chance and headed to the right. But halfway down his body once again betrayed him. His joints and muscles were on fire and his limbs simply did not want to work right. He leaded back against the wall and let himself fall to the floor. He told himself he was only going to sit there long enough to get his breath back and then head out in search of his brother. But his eyes began to involantarily close. Before they closed all the way however, a light caught his attention. It was heading his way, bouncing all over the walls. It was a flashlight. "It's about time Sammy." He whispered.

They headed down the second hallway on the floor. So far they had no luck in locating Dean. Sam was going crazy with worry, barely able to control his emotions. His dad however, was the picture of calm. How did he do it, Sam wondered. He only prayed that they found Dean quickly, before his Dad decided to give up the search and finish the job. And just as those thoughts crossed his mind the light from the flashlight found a form slumped over in the middle of the hallway.

"Dean!" Sam screamed and ran to his brother. He knelt before him. Dean slowly opened his eyes. Sam could see how unfocused they were. "Dean, say something." Sam pleaded.  
Dean smiled and hoarsely said, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Me? You're the one who disappeared!" Sam tried to let a laugh escape, but it was more like a sob.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine Dean. Come on, let's get you up."

Dean was about to try and resist Sam's help, but he figured since he did really want to get out of there, it was best to let him. As Sam placed his hand under Dean's left arm he put his right arm against the wall to help. He almost let out a yell when he felt someone take his right arm. He jerked back and looked to the figure now standing beside him.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He must be hallucinating, he thought. "Dad?"

"Hello son."

-TBC-

Thanks again for reading. Please (and I hate to beg) but, review!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Dean shook his head slightly. It couldn't really be. They hadn't seen their Dad since Chicago. Why the hell would he show up now? And here?

As if reading his mind, John said, "It's me Dean. I'll explain everything later. For now, let's get out of here so I can go burn the bones. Now up."

John helped Sam lift Dean off the ground. Once again his sons were standing before him, bruised and battered. And once again the father part of his soul took over and he was washed with the guilt of the life he had given to them. At that moment he was so tempted just to break down and tell his boys how sorry he was. To show his concern. To tell them 'let's just get the hell outta here and forget about the job'. But once again that little voice found it's way back to the front. That little voice that went by so many names. Vengence, stubborness, pride, and animal instinct. He loved his boys beyond what words could say. But nonetheless, he did choose this life, and he choose to put them in it. To avenge their mother, to rid the world of evil. And he spent the last twenty two years training them to survive. And as he looked at them the military man came back out, and he was pissed. He couldn't believe they had come in here unprepared. Like a couple of rookies on the first day of the job. He just couldn't hold it in any longer. Dean knew better than this.

"What the hell were thinking Dean?" John suddenly burst out as he and Sam were lugging him down the hallway.

Dean's head snapped up in attention. He didn't need to ask what his Father meant. He knew. "Sorry sir. I screwed up."

Anger flashed over Sam. Here they were dragging Dean down the hallway because he was so injured, his voice was so hoarse he could barely speak, and Sam himself was injured, and their dad had the nerve to start chastising Dean! "Dad! This wasn't Dean's fault!"

"Don't give me that crap! He knows better than this. He knows how things can go bad without a second's notice! Didn't I teach you anything Dean!"

Dean had let his head lull forward. Once again he was stuck between his brother and his father's argument. Literally. And right now he just couldn't take it. He was too tired. He was tired of seeing the two people he loved most in the world hate each other. He came to a stop, surprising Sam and his Father. With all of the strength and convicition he could give his voice, he said, "Look Dad. Sammy and I are a little beat to hell right now and I really don't feel like a lecture. Can we please just do the job and then you can yell all you want later."

Sam was speechless. And he vowed right then that he would never forget the look that crossed over his Dad's face. The look of complete and utter shock. And for once in his life, the man was speechless. Sam wanted to pat Dean on the back and scream for joy that he had finally stood up to the old man. But then he felt Dean's body tremble beneath his hand. "All right guys, can we go now. Before Dean passes out and I have to carry him." He shot his Dad a stern look, telling him to let it go. 

John got the message. He didn't like it, but he got the message. But what did he expect? He's the one that abandoned them. Leaving them only each other to depend on. Did he really think they wouldn't stand as a united front against him? Well, of course, he didn't think Dean would. But obviously Sam had rubbed off on him. 

They had finally made it to the last flight of stairs leading them to the first floor. Sam had hope they were going to make it out, and silently was thankful their dad had shown up to help. Dean was feeling guilty for mouthing off to his father and hoping they were almost done walking down friggin' flights of stairs. And John was bracing for the inevitible.

He didn't have to wait long. The light blasted through the darkness accompanied by the sounds of wood creaking and giving way. Before he had a chance to shove his boys to safety, John felt the steps give way beneath his feet. Before he knew it he had lost his hold on Dean, and all three of them were falling down.

Okay, so this was a shortie. But the next one will be better. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Oops... forgot to explain the title. Just in case any of you were wondering why it's called Tretheway House and there's no one by that name in the story. I tool the name from a local legend in my town. There's a road here called Tretheway Road and a family was murdered there a while back. They say it's haunted now. So I took that idea and changed it up a bit. Just thought I'd share the history.

Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 8:

The first thing he became aware of was the pain. His entire body trembled with every breath. He was laying on something that was poking into his back sharply, but he couldn't find it in himself to move. There was also something heavy on his legs, but he didn't even want to try to lift his head to look. He opened his eyes and found only darkness. From some where far off he could see a sliver of light. He turned his head slightly, wincing from the pain, and saw that it was the beam of the flashlight coming out from under a bunch of wood. Then suddenly it all came rushing back to him. Where he was, what happened and that the stairs gave way. Dad! Sammy! He suddenly had the motivation to try and move. As he willed his body to sit up he cried out in pain as his ribs were set on fire. He knew from experience something was broken. "Sammy? Dad?" He called out, but received no response. With very slow and careful movements Dean began the process of moving the debris off his body. "Sam! Dad! Can you hear me!" He called out again, desperate to hear something from his family.

"Dean?" Came a low and pained response.

"Dad! Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." a pause. "Just give me a minute to get this shit off of me. Are you okay? Where's Sam?"

"Sammy!" Dean screamed. "I can't see shit Dad. Can you reach the flashlight?"

It didn't go un-noticed to John that Dean didn't answer his first question. John's body was screaming in agony with every move, he knew his son's weren't any better. And he knew Dean would feign that he was okay, at least until they heard from Sam. With a very strained effort John reached his flashlight and turned it on brighter. He scanned the area. They had fallen into the basement by the looks of things. The debris from the rotten stairs and the floors had fallen all around them. To his right he saw that he had just missed being impaled on a metal stand. He forced himself to stand. His legs were shaky and his head immediately began to throb. He reached up and felt the blood running on his forehead. As he tried to step forward he couldn't hold in the gasp of pain from his left knee. Slowly he tested his weight on the leg, and finding that it wasn't broken, he limped forward. For just a moment he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to Mary, asking her to let his sons be all right.

As he moved forward in search of Dean he heard his son's moans of pain and the sound of the debris being moved. His light finally found him and he hurried to his son's side, helping him to free himself of the rubble. As he pulled Dean away from the mess he gave him a look over for injuries. John noted the open wound on the back of his head, the way he clutched his arm to his ribs, the pale face, the blood trickling from his mouth, and the unfocused eyes. Dean was in bad shape. "Okay Dean," he said as he helped his son scoot back against a wall, "I gotta find Sam. You stay right here and try not to move too much."

Dean shook his head, "I'll help."

"Dean." John said more firmly. "You're hurt. You're no good to Sam this way. We need to get out of here. I don't need to have to carry you both out. Sit here, that's an order."

Dean clenched his jaw shut and for a moment just stared at his father. His brother, his responsibility, could be laying in that damn basement dying and he was supposed to just sit there? But in the end, he was the good soldier he always was. "Yes sir." He said in a clipped response.

John nodded, but he didn't miss the hesitation or the look he received from Dean. His boys had definitely become a united front. And as glad as he was about that, he couldn't help but feel that pain of being an outsider. Of being the 'drill sargent' who they listened to, but not the father they needed. Not for the first time in the last year, he felt that sorrow again. Sorrow for what he had done to his boys. Suddenly he pushed those feelings aside. He would have plenty of time to make up for that, right now he needed to save his boys' life, then they could deal with everything else. "Sammy!" He called. Quickly he gave a look back to Dean and found that his boy had his eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall. He was out cold. "Damn it!" He yelled out loud. "Sam, answer me! That's an order!" Then he heard it. A soft moan and stirring. "Sam!"

After a short pause of silence his son spoke up, "Here. I'm right here Dad."

John made his way towards Sam's voice. Finally his light found him. Sam looked like he was the luckier of the three. He had landed on a wooden table, which broke beneath his fall, but there was nothing on top of him. John bent and grabbed the boy's collar pulling him into a seated position. "Anything broken?"

Sam shook his head and rubbed his temples, "Don't think so. Just hurts all over."

John went behind him and looked at Sam's back. "Damn it. Your backs bleeding again Sam. Think you can get up?"

"Yeah. Where's Dean?"

"He's okay." John gave his son a hand and pulled him to his feet, holding him by the shoulders until he regained his balance. "Dizzy?"

"A little bit." Sam conceded. Slowly he turned his head side to side to get a better look at where they were at. "Great, the basement. Now how are we getting out of here?"

"Don't worry, I'll find a way." John assured him. John led Sam slowly over to Dean, stepping over the broken wood and other items that had been crushed beneath it. Along the way he found his bag. He bent over to pick it up and stiffled the groan of pain that shot through his back. Damn, this had really gone sour. Hadn't he just yelled at his boys for getting into trouble? And now, here he was in the same way he had found them. No, at least when he first found them they were only mildly injured. Now they were really hurt. He had pissed of Mr. Wells good, and now his boys were suffering for it. They had to get out of there and fast!

When they reached Dean he was still unconcious. "Dean!" Sam screamed and ignored his pain as he fell to his brother's side. He reached for his neck and felt for a pulse, letting out a relieved breath when he found it. "Dean? Dean, wake up!"

John knelt down beside his boys and cupped Dean's face in his hands. "Dean. Son, open your eyes." He lightly slapped Dean's cheeks. "Dean!" He called more firmly.

Dean's eyes fluttered and he slowly opened them. "Dad?" His mind was fuzzy and he couldn't quite remember what happened. "What are you doing here? Where's Sammy?"

"I'm right here Dean." Sam said, worry began to fill his heart at Dean's confusion.

"You okay?" Dean asked weakly.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Dean, look at me." John said, "We need to move now. I'm going to lift you."

Dean stared at him for a moment, "What's going on?" He started to let his eyes close again.

"Dean!" John shouted. "Don't close your eyes. We have to get moving and I can't carry you all the way out. Open your eyes! Suck it up for now Dean." John didn't miss the look of disgust Sam sent his way. Instead he steadied himself and began to reach for Dean to pull him up. That's when they heard the noise behind them and light filled the room.

Sam and John stood quickly and spun around, Sam placing himself in front of Dean as Mr. Wells appeared.

The ghost set his eyes straight to John. "Have you heard of the saying the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?" John said nothing. "I see now where your boys learned their traits. Like father like sons."

"Shut the hell up." John said. Slowly he was reaching into his pocket for his holy water.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you." Mr. Wells warned. Then with a wave of his hand he sent John flying into the wall behind him, pinning him there.

Sam stood stunned, wanting to help his father, but not wanting to leave Dean unprotected. Then he remembered that his dad had given him a vial of holy water. Quickly he reached into his pocket and fast as he could opened it and flung it at the ghost. Mr. Wells let out a hiss and disappeared. John was immediately released from the wall and fell to his knees. Sam ran to him and helped him up.

"You okay Dad?"

"Fine. Let's get your brother."

Just as they turned to go back to Dean the light returned once again. This time however, Mr. Wells did not appear. Instead, the light moved in front of them and over to Dean, engulfing his body. John and Sam watched helplessly as Dean's body arched away from the wall and the light moved inside of him. Then in horror they watched as Dean opened his eyes and stood, without any sign of pain, faced them and smiled, his eyes shining brightly.

"No!" Sam screamed.

–TBC-

Thanks for reading, and thanks to all those who reviewed. It really makes my day!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Dean, or Dean slash Mr. Wells, paced back and forth in front of the two stunned hunters, with a wide smile plastered on his face. He paced with no attention to the battered body or the pain his host was most likely feeling. He felt nothing. Nothing but a sense of pleasure at this new adventure. It had been a long time since he had been in a body this young and he could only imagine what he would be able to do. He stopped and stared intently at his two prisoners. He delved into their minds and found every sin, counted every moral rule they had broken. Of all of the little hoodlums that had come into his home, these men were beyond anything he knew. They didn't just have one problem to solve, they had many. Lying, cheating, stealing, killing, whoring, drinking, and the list went on. And he was only going to be too happy to teach the lessons they needed to learn. However, he was more concerned with the younger men. He could possibly lead them down the right path. The father, though, the world could do without him.

"Leave my son alone." John said in a low menacing tone.

'Dean' smiled and Mr. Wells said, "I don't think so. I think this body will be useful to me. And what better way to teach him his lesson and show him the path of light and goodness than to blend ourselves? Much better than me just telling him. And believe me, your son needs lessons. You've produced a very bad seed John."

John was undeterred and refused to let whatever this thing say bother him, "I'm going to send you to hell."

'Dean' laughed. "Others have tried. You've tried, and failed. You failed here and you've failed as a father." He walked towards John and backed him up into a wall. "I know what you are thinking. How you would sacrifice your son here and now. What kind of father does that?"

He had hit a nerve and John visibly flinched. Of course he wouldn't want to sacrifice Dean. But in the back of his mind, he knew they might not have a choice. But he replied, "I would never hurt my children. Unlike you."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam slowly moving towards the bag of supplies. Knowing what he was doing John had to keep the ghost distracted. "At least I can say my children love me. Did yours? Do they now, knowing you murdered them?"

'Dean's' face turned angry. Mr. Wells sent a bolt of electricity into John causing him to fall to his knees and scream out in pain. "Now you know what your son felt. Want to feel some more? Or should I just do it to him again?" John didn't respond. "You know that your son is listening. He's in pain. He's screaming to get out. But you know what else. He's scared John. The warrior you raised is scared. He knows deep down that if given the chance, you'll kill him just to get rid of me. Isn't that right." He bent to John and took his chin and tilted up his head. "You are a horrid father, and you will be punished."

"Not today." John stated. Then with a sudden rush of energy he bolted up. "Sorry kiddo." He punched his son sending him flat on his back. He then jumped on top of him and struggled to hold him down. "Sammy! Get the rope out of my bag! Now!" Dean was fighting back fiercely, and John knew it was only the strength of Mr Wells that kept his body going. Dean was too far injured to be fighting this well. And it only broke John's heart more knowing he was hurting his son even worse. "Sam, now!"

Sam brought the rope he had found, though it wasn't much. Just enough to tie Dean's hands. John continued to sit on top of him.

"Dad, what now?" Sam asked. He was trying to stay calm, but inside he was freaking out. He had listened very closely to the conversation his dad and Mr. Wells had. And right now he was scared. He feared that Mr. Wells was right. That John would do anything to get rid of the ghost, even if it mean harming Dean in the process. He wasn't about to let that happen. Just as he was about to pull his dad off Dean, the struggle between the two stopped. Sam knelt down next to them.

Dean's eyes closed, and then he slowly opened them, blinking a couple of times. He turned his head and focused on Sam. "Sammy?" He said slowly. He tried to move and found that his hands were tied and his dad was sitting on top of him. "Dad? What are you doing?"

"Dean! Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"I'd be fine if Dad would get off me." Dean replied in a very soft voice.

"No." John stated, staring directly into Dean's eyes.

"Dad! Get off him!" Sam screamed. He started to reached for John's shoulders to push him, but John beat him and pushed Sam back.

"No Sam! He didn't leave. He's just toying with us."

"I don't know...what's happening. Sammy?" Dean looked to Sam, pleading with his eyes for help.

Sam was breaking apart at the seams. He wanted so desperately to help his brother, but if there was one thing his father taught him, was that things aren't always what they seem. And Sam knew better than anyone just how deceiving ghosts can be. They would try anything. And if Mr. Wells was accessing Dean's mind, he knew that pleading with Sam was the way to go to get free. With sad eyes and a sad voice Sam said, "I'm sorry Dean."

"Please Sammy." Dean cried.

Sam let a dry laugh escape, "Stop. Just stop. Dean would never beg."

"Sam, help me lift him." John said, trying to ignore his son's pleading voice. He kept telling himself it wasn't his son. But he had to keep his eyes from reaching Dean's. He couldn't let his resolve break. They had to get this son of a bitch out of Dean's body and burn him.

Sam helped his father and they drug Dean to a beam in the middle of the room and sat him up. Dean gave no struggle, simply looked at them with a look of bewilderment. But he stayed silent.

"Sam. In my bag. There's a small flask. Take it and get upstairs. Rub it on the front door. It will open it. Get the shovel from my truck and go burn the bones."

Sam looked at his father with wide eyes. "What?" He shook his head. "No way, I'm not leaving. You do it." He wished he didn't feel it, but Sam didn't trust his father to be left alone with Dean.

"Damn it Sam! Don't start arguing with me. I gave you an order now follow it!"

"And leave you here alone with Dean! What are you going to do to him!"

John was actually shocked. He took a step closer to Sam. "What? You don't trust me? You think I would actually hurt my own son!"

Sam didn't back down from his father. All the years of frustration that had built up was ready to burst, and he didn't hold it back. "Hurt your son? Wouldn't you? Isn't that what you've done all of our lives! How about this last year! You've sent us coordinates to places that have nearly gotten us killed! And you never even bothered to pick up your phone! Do you care!"

John held back the urge to slap his son across the face. A small part of him knew he deserved those words, but he was not about to be disrespected by his son. "You want to talk about caring! You walked away from your family Sam. You! You hurt your brother more than anyone could!"

The words stung Sam. The truth hurt, and his father had just flatly laid out the truth. But as wrong as he had been, he didn't feel that way now, and he wasn't about to walk away from his brother again. In a very calm voice, too calm for what he felt, he said, "You're right Dad. I hurt Dean and I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to hurt you either. And I'm sorry, okay. But we've all made mistakes. And I don't intend on making another one. So I'm not leaving here. Either we do everything together or no one leaves this room. Not alone."

John laughed. "I gave you an order son, and you will do it." He said low and growling. "If you want to help your brother, do your job. Or stand here and watch him die. Your choice."

-TBC-

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think. I'm not sure this chapter turned out the way I had planned. So let me know if it worked for you. Hopefully the next one turns out better.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Sam stood still, in awe of just how mean his father could be. There was definitely no way in hell he was leaving now. He didn't honestly believe his father would kill his own son, but when John was in 'hunter' mode, he was known to look past a few injuries to get the job done. And Dean was already so hurt, Sam didn't think he could withstand much more. And he'd be damned if he didn't try to stop it.

John was so angry his blood was boiling over. He loved his boys. Both of them. Equally. To have Sam actually think he could kill one of them broke his heart. But Sam always was his emotional one. He had never turned as hard as Dean. He never let John tear down his identity as Dean had. John wished at that moment he could tell Sam just how proud he was of the man he had become. But he feared it would be too little too late. Instead he tried to wrap his head around the situation. He knew that neither one of the boys would leave the other. But he wasn't about to leave them alone either. They needed to get Mr. Wells out of Dean, and leave together. As a family. That was the only solution.

"Okay Sam. I shouldn't have said that. We get that son of a bitch out of your brother and we leave together."

"Good." Sam replied curtly.

"But you know the rules Sam. Don't fall for it's tricks. This might not be pretty. You have to stay strong."

"I know Dad. Don't worry about me."

"Fine. Then let's draw him out. You remember the text?"

Sam smiled, "You always said I had a mind like a steel trap Dad. I remember every word."

John let a faint smile cross his lips. "That's my boy." He turned back to Dean and knelt down. "Dean," his son looked up at him with blank eyes. "If you can hear me son, I'm sorry. This is going to hurt, but just hang on." He received no response. He grabbed his holy water, closed his eyes, took a deep breath then said, "Okay Sammy, let's do this."

John began to sprinkle holy water onto Dean's body. He reacted immediately, jerking and kicking, trying to get away. But John held firm and kept his weight on Dean, holding him down. Sam came up by his side, and avoiding his brother's eyes, began reciting the chant his father had taught him. Dean screamed. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, not being able to bear looking at him.

This went on for the next twenty minutes. Dean screaming and struggling against John. Sam, keeping his eyes closed and simply repeating the memorized words over and over. Praying that this would end soon. That his brother's anguish could stop. So his own could stop. Then suddenly, Dean stopped screaming and went limp. The light left him and disappeared into the darkness. Both John and Sam let out a relieved breath, though they both knew that they hadn't performed an exorsism. They simply removed the ghost from his body. It would be back.

John immediately untied Dean's hands and gently laid him flat on his back. He checked for a pulse, and found it quickly, and very strong. Sam knelt beside the other side of Dean.

"Dean? Dean wake up." Sam pleaded.

Slowly Dean's eyes fluttered and after a moment opened. He turned his head and focused on Sam. "Sammy? What's going on?" He was truly confused. His mind was fuzzy and he had no idea where he was.

"We'll explain later Dean. Right now we gotta get out of here." Sam looked to his Dad who nodded. They both slipped an arm under Dean and pulled him up. To Dean's credit he didn't make a sound. He simply let his head droop down, chin resting on his chest.

"Sam. Let me take him. You're injured too. I don't want your back hurt worse."

"No Dad. Let me help. I'm fine."

Turning the flashlight in front of them, they found the stairs and made their way up. The emerged in the kitchen. They didn't have too much further to go. The front door was only a little ways away. John thought for sure this time they were going to make. His son's were going to be okay.

That was until they felt an invisible force pull them apart, once again. Each one landing in a different direction.

-TBC-

Thanks for reading. And please review. It makes my day! I still have a lot more planned for our boys. And Mr. Wells isn't done yet!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

"Damn it! This is getting old!" John shouted as he lifted himself off the floor once again. His eyes scanned the area and he found both of his sons slumped in heaps on the floor. Without wasting time he grabbed his concoction and ran to the front door. As quickly as he could he smeared it around the door and said the magic words. He opened it a crack and ran back to his boys. He intended to get them out as fast as he could. Of course, as all of his plans had seemed to go today, this once sunk to the bottom of the pool quickly. Mr. Wells wasn't going to let go that easily. He appeared behind John and threw him into the wall, pinning him there. He then grabbed the unconcious Sam and pinned him right next to his father.

Mr. Wells stepped up to them. "I'm really getting tired of you boys. I thought I could help you, but you have proved me wrong. It is time for me to just end your miserable existence." He turned his head and looked into John's eyes. "Would you like to pick which son goes first?"

John said nothing, instead he simply glared at the ghost. Inside he was silently willing Dean to wake up. He was the only not pinned under the control of Mr. Wells right now, and he was their only hope. But Dean wasn't moving. John couldn't even tell if he was breathing. Sam was still unconsious and he was powerless to move. He had failed his sons. His only hope was to continue to distract the ghost, cause him to get angry, release his hold some so maybe John would have some hope of finding a way to move. "Since you seem to be able to read minds so well, did you know that I already salted and burned _your_ kids?" John asked. "I sent them screaming into hell."

That definitely pissed Mr. Wells off. With a sudden growl he flew his hands toward John and hit him with that killer shot of electricity. The last thought that crossed John's mind was, 'damn, I wanted to piss him off, not get myself knocked out'. Then he faded into blackness.

Mr. Wells was taking a moment to enjoy his work. He was tired of these pain in the ass hunters. It was time to end them. He decided on the youngest boy first. Just as he walked to Sam and placed a hand around his throat he heard the click. He turned to see Dean staggering and weaving, but standing, with a shotgun aimed at him.

"Leave my family the fuck alone!" Dean screamed and pulled the trigger.

Instantly Sam and John were released and fell to the floor. Dean stumbled to them and fell between them. He felt for a pulse on his brother and father and found one on both. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had to get them out of there. But he wasn't sure he could make it. His body was screaming in pain, he had double vision, and his legs and hands trembled so bad he wasn't sure he could lift his family out. But he had no choice. He had to suck it up and be a man. They were counting on him and he wouldn't let them down.

He worked to gather his strength. He saw that the door was cracked open. _Thank you Dad_, he thought. He put his arms under Sam's and began to haul him to the door, moaning in agony the entire way. Not wanting to take any chances he drug Sam all the way down the steps and off the porch, laying him gently on the front lawn, well actually front dirt. He then turned and headed back for his Dad. Halfway up the steps his legs gave out and he fell hard onto his knees. "Shit!" He screamed. But he took a deep breath and forced himself up. He found his Dad exactly where he had left him. His Dad was a lot heavier than Sam and it took him a lot longer and a lot more effort to pull him out.

Once outside he laid his Dad next to Sam and then he collapsed right next to them. For the moment he felt safe. He was pretty sure that Mr. Wells couldn't come outside to get them. There had never been any reports of deaths outside the house. But a sudden cold chill that ran over him made him change his mind. He glanced at his brother and father and made sure they were still breathing. Well, it was all on him now and he had to finish the job. He was going to burn those damn bones, and enjoy every freaking minute of it.

–TBC–

This one was a quickie, but I thought I'd get it out before the weekend was over. I have a busy week at work ahead, so I may not be able to post again until next weekend. I'll try, but no promises! Thanks again for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

He inhaled deeply and his lungs relished the fresh cool air. He felt the cool breeze wash over his body, causing his shirt to ruffle up. It felt so good against his hot skin. He could hear crickets in the background, and some kind of bird chirping. What kind of bird chirps at night? he wondered. At least he was pretty sure it was night. He hadn't opened his eyes yet to confirm that thought. But he didn't feel the beating rays of the sun. And didn't crickets only come out at night? Who knew. And he didn't care. All he knew was that where ever he was laying was comfortable enough for the moment and the breeze was cooling off his hot skin. He thought about trying to move, but the thought didn't get carried from his brain to his limbs, so he inhaled deeply again and let his eyes close even tighter. He was trying to remember exactly where he was and what was going on, but his mind was too fuzzy. It felt like he was trying to remember a vague dream, only recalling flashes. There was something he was supposed to be doing, he knew that much, but he'd be damned if he could remember what.

Suddenly in the distance he heard the faint sounds of crying. A child. Soft sobs. Reluctantly he opened his eyes. He was greeted with darkness and stars dotting the sky above him. With a small groan he lifted himself up to a sitting position. Instantly dizziness swept over him and his body screamed out with shooting pain. The crying was coming louder now, echoing through the night. He shook off the feeling. He looked around him and immediately saw his dad and brother lying next to him. A flash of panic swelled through him. He couldn't remember how they had come to be there. With trembling fingers he reached out to each of them and felt for a pulse. They were both alive. He exhaled the nervous breath he was holding. He sat for a moment in shock, looking at his father. Why was he here? He tried searching his memory, but just couldn't recall when his father had arrived. Both his dad and Sam looked beaten and broken. _Why can't I remember!_

The crying reached his ears again. It was growing louder. He looked up toward the sound and found himself staring at a dark house looming in front of him. He slightly remembered him and Sam arriving here. But it had been daylight then. _What happened?_ He became lost in his thoughts, trying to remember, when something by the front window caught his eye. A child. She stood there for just a moment, then turned and walked away. The crying began again. Then the whispered words, _help me_, drifted across the night wind.

He looked at his family, then back at the house. Obviously they had come here to help someone. Maybe it was the little girl. He looked to his dad and brother again. They were alive. They seemed to be halfway okay, for the moment. He knew his father would want him to do what he could to help the child. None of them would walk away from a hurt child, putting themselves first. Once more he checked their pulses just to reconfirm they were alive.

Dean took a deep breath and heaved himself up onto unsteady legs. With short, pain filled strides, he began to make his way to the house. He was overwhelmed with worry for his family, his brain felt like it was going to explode from trying to remember what the hell had happened, and his body was fighting every move he made. But there was no way in hell he was going to walk away from that child. Dean never walked away.

He finally made it to the front door. He immediately noticed the discarded gun lying just inside the threshold. Slowly he bent down and picked it up, then walked completely back through the door.

-TBC-

Hey all, sorry it took all week to update. But hey, I work on a computer all day at work. Sometimes it's just too much to do it at night too. Oh well, enough whining. Hope you liked the update. There will be plenty more this weekend! And please, review!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

The feel of the house was instantly familiar. Danger. As soon as he entered, every instinct in his body screamed to get out. The moonlight filtered through the windows, bouncing shadows off the walls, which looked even worse he was sure, because of his double vision. His eyes scanned the room. Then the hair on the back of his neck stood up and a chill ran down his spine. _Well, that's never a good sign._ Then, there she was. The little girl. Only now, he realized, she was a ghost. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He shook his head trying to clear his vision.

She looked up at Dean with sad, tear filled eyes. In a small voice she said, "I'm sorry for what my Daddy did. But, please...please help us."

Dean was unsure of what to say. The kid was obviously no threat. But he had no idea what she was talking about. Just as he was about to ask her what was going on she turned and looked behind her, her face flashing fear. Then she disappeared.

"Would you like me to refresh your memory?"

Dean's head snapped up, eyes searching for the owner of the voice. But he kept quiet.

"You are a foolish boy."

Suddenly Mr. Wells appeared right in front of Dean. "Now let me put an end to your misery."

A scream. At first he thought he was dreaming. But then another scream. No, that was real. He was suddenly very aware of lying on the hard ground, his pain filled body, the gashes on his back, and the fact that it was night. He wasn't dreaming. And he knew that voice. _Dean_.

Without a second thought, he shot straight up. Only to regret it half a second later. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled out loud. _Suck it up Sam, _he told himself. _You gotta figure out what's going on._ The last thing he remembered was leaving the basement with his Dad and Dean. Now, he found himself lying in the dirt under a night sky. Quickly he looked around him for his family. He found his father lying to the left of him. He crawled to him and gave him a quick look over. He seemed to only be unconscious. "Dad? Dad, can you hear me?" Sam shook him slightly. "Wake up!." But John gave no indication he heard his son. "Damn it!" Sam turned to his right, expecting to see Dean, but he wasn't there.

Sam scanned the rest of the area but saw no sign of Dean. Panic began to rise and his heart began to beat faster. "Dean!" he screamed into the night. Sam rose to his feet making a small circle, searching, hoping to find his brother lying somewhere near to them. "Dean! Dean, answer me! Where are you!" Still no answer. That's when he remembered the scream. _'Oh my God.'_ His eyes wandered to the house. The front door was still open. He couldn't see any movement from where he was. But somewhere inside, something told him, that was exactly where his brother was.

"Please don't be in there. Please let me be wrong." Without regard to his own physical injuries, or the fact that he was leaving his father alone and unconscious, he made his way to his brother.

-TBC-

Okay, so maybe I'm dragging the story out a little bit, but I just can't seem to let it go. Hope you hang in there with me! Thanks again!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

The first thing that hit him when he walked through the door was the eerie silence. He no longer heard the birds, the crickets, or the rustling of the wind. And worse, he no longer heard the scream. His brother's voice. As much as his heart wrenched when he heard it, at least he knew at that moment Dean was still alive. Now with the quiet, he worried his worst fear had come true. What the hell had made Dean come back in here? _Maybe it wasn't by his own free will_, Sam thought, and that sent a chill down his spine.

He stepped further into the darkened house, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light provided by the moon. He searched the immediate area for any sign of his brother or their left behind weapons and flashlights. There were no signs of any of them. "Dean." He called out softly. There was no response. Hesitantly Sam made his way towards the living room. As he entered he heard the front door slam behind him. "Just great." He muttered to himself. "Damn you Dean, there better be a damn good reason you got us locked in here for a second time."

As he walked through the living room the moonlight filtering in was less and less. Darkness surrounded him. He continued to call out for Dean, but he continued to get no response. Just as he was going to give up his search of that room his foot hit something. Something that moaned with the contact. He looked down and found his brother slumped on the floor, doubled over with his arms wrapped around his middle. "Dean!" Sam dropped down next to his brother and rolled him onto his back. "Dean! Can you hear me! Open your eyes!"

Dean's eyes fluttered, then opened slowly. "Sam...Sammy...that you?"

"Yeah it's me. What the hell are you doing here Dean?" Sam knew that shouldn't have been his first question, but 'are you okay' seemed stupid and pointless at the moment. Of course his brother wasn't okay. He could barely hold his eyes open. Gently, Sam bent and placed his arms under Dean's intending to lift him off the floor. "We gotta get out of here Dean. We'll get Dad and get out of here." As he lifted Dean, his brother shouted out in pain.

"Sam! Stop!"

Sam slumped to the floor quickly, holding Dean from behind, keeping him tight to his body. His heart raced with panic. "Dean, I'm sorry. But we have to move." Dean didn't respond back. The brothers sat for a moment in silence, their heavy breathing the only sound. Sam wasn't sure what to do. They were stuck again. Dean was hurt even worse than before, and Sam wasn't faring much better, and their father was still passed out outside. This day had definitely taken a down hill slide. "Dean, why did you come back in here?" He asked quietly.

For a moment he didn't answer, then just as quietly Dean said, "I don't remember. Actually, I don't remember much of anything."

Sam was confused, "What do you mean you don't remember?"

"I don't remember why we are here, when we got here, what's going on." Dean sighed, "Everything's fuzzy right now."

Sam sighed. "Well, I'll explain it all later. But first we need to get out of here. So, I'm gonna help you up. I'm sorry it's gonna hurt. We've got no choice man."

Dean nodded and took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was coming. He felt Sam get his feet beneath him and then the pressure under his arms as Sam began pulling him up. He bit his lip against the pain, holding his scream inside. All the while Sam kept muttering his apologies for hurting him.

"It's okay Sam. Like you said we've got no choice." Dean paused, he looked to Sam, "Was I imagining things or is Dad really here?"

Sam smiled, "He's here." Sam left out that fact that he left him unconscious outside. But his brother didn't need to worry about that right now. "Okay, we'll move slow, one step at a time. The front door isn't that far."

Dean nodded, then a thought hit him. "Wait, front door. Thought we couldn't get out."

Sam felt a little hope wash over him, "Starting to remember?"

"Maybe." Was all Dean said. Right now it took everything for him to concentrate and get his feet to move.

"All right bro, let's go." Sam said, praying once again they could make it before that son of a bitch made another appearance.

He awoke with a start, realization hitting him hard. He found himself lying outside facing the house. How the hell did he get out here? Quickly his trained eyes darted, looking for his sons. "Sam! Dean!" Nothing but the chirping crickets answered his call. "Damn it!" He looked back at the house, the closed front door, and just knew his boys were once again in harms way. This time though, he let the soldier inside of him take over, pushing his fatherly feelings away. There was no reason to bust in there with guns blazing again. He couldn't risk getting trapped himself again. No. This time he would do it right. He pushed himself to his feet, gave one last glance to the house, and headed to his truck. This time he would save his sons the right way. He grabbed the shovel and can of salt. It was time to burn that mother fucker and send him to hell once and for all. Only then could he return for his boys.

-TBC-


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

The front door was finally in view through the moonlight. "We're almost there Dean." He said to his brother. Dean didn't respond, and Sam didn't fail to notice how much more his brother was leaning on him, or how quiet he had become. "Dean, you with me?"

"Yeah." It was a whisper.

"Okay Dean, I'm gonna lean you on the wall here so I can get the door open, okay."

Dean simply nodded. Sam lowered him gently to the floor and watched with concern as Dean simply slumped back, eyes closed. Standing straight Sam took a deep breath, pushing back his own pain and dizziness. As he went to the door he glanced out the front window scanning for his Dad. His eyes widened in surprise when he didn't see him. "Oh God, please tell me he didn't somehow slip past us and come back in here too." He said to himself. 'No, he wouldn't do that again.' Sam smiled. He's gonna burn the bones. Thank you Dad.

"_Going somewhere?"_

Sam spun around to face Mr. Wells, the smile still on his face. "Yeah, and so are you." He said sarcastically.

Mr. Wells shook his head. "You boys still haven't learned the lesson of respect."

"No." A voice from Sam's side spoke up. "We know respect all right. And that man we respect is gonna burn your ass." Dean said. Dean slowly pushed himself off the wall and stood next to his brother.

"I'm growing tired of you boys." Mr. Wells said and started to raise his hand. Dean immediately jumped in front of Sam, pushing his little brother up against the front door safely behind him. Sam was about to argue what his brother had just done, but didn't get the chance. Instead he watched as Dean was sent flying across the room and bounced into a chest of drawers, landing with a thud.

"Dean!" Sam screamed and started to run to him, only to find himself pinned to the spot and Mr. Wells coming toward him.

"Well, I think that will be the last of him. Now for you young man." Mr. Wells smiled as he walked towards Sam, and smiled even bigger as he placed his hands around Sam's throat and squeezed.

'What is it with ghosts and my neck?' Sam thought as he gasped for air.

After finally finding the grave of Mr. Wells, John began frantically digging. He pushed all thoughts aside, all pain aside, and concentrated only on moving his arms as fast as they could go. He kept a constant alertness about him, waiting for the ghost to show up any moment to stop him. However, his instinct told him that his boys were probably keeping him busy. But instead of that thought slowing him down, it gave him hope and pushed him faster. If the ghost wasn't here to stop him, then that meant his boys were still alive.

After what felt like an eternity his shovel finally hit something hard. Falling to his knees he swept the dirt around until he saw the coffin. He smiled. A good old fashioned wooden, easy to break coffin. He lucked out. Coffins nowadays were definitely getting harder and harder to bust open with a shovel. He picked up his shovel and with a little muscle and one swift smack, he cracked it open, sending wood splintering. He cringed slightly at the sight of the skeleton that lay beneath. Then a smile spread across his face, "Goodbye you bastard." He said in a deep, menacing voice.

John climbed his way out of the grave and grabbed the can of salt, pouring it over the skeleton liberally. He then added a little lighter fluid and withdrew the matches. "Burn in hell, literally." He said and struck the first match. Just as he went to drop it though, he felt the chill surround his body and then something hard struck the back of his legs causing him to fall over. "Son of a bitch!" He screamed. He looked up to see Mr. Wells standing behind him, holding a rather large and thick stick.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Mr. Wells said.

John smiled and withdrew his hand quickly, spraying the ghosts with salt. "You fucked with my boys. Nobody fucks with my boys." He said as the ghost hissed. Without wasting time he grabbed his matches and struck another one, throwing it quickly into the grave. He watched in pleasure as the fire started to burn and smiled widely when he heard the ghost screaming in agony. "Rot in hell." He said as Mr. Wells faded away once and for all.

Leaving the fire to burn completely John headed back towards the house as fast as his injured legs would carry him. "I'm coming boys."

-TBC-

Oh my gosh! Thanks so much for all the reviews everyone. You guys have been soooo kind. You make my day! And to those who've just read, thank you too. I hope you all have enjoyed this story, there isn't much more to go. One more chapter for sure, possibly two more. Thanks again!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

John began his trek back to the house, ignoring the flames burning behind him. He knew the flames would die out on their own inside the hole. And even if they didn't, right now he didn't care. That asshole was gone for good. He needed to concentrate on his boys now. He needed to step up and be the father they needed him to be. Even if it was too little too late.

As he walked his old body began stiffening up on him. His legs were throbbing where the stick had hit him, his joints ached from the electric jolt the ghost gave him, and his head was pounding. And all of a sudden it just seemed as though the years of this hard life had caught up with him. His body felt old beyond it's years. His body was slowing down, his mind was tired, and his heart ached for the wife he lost, for the family he never got to raise the right way, and for his boys who never knew anything different. Oh how his boys had suffered because of his choices. Looking back it was easy to see what he should have done differently. But hindsight is always twenty twenty. There was nothing he could change now. And as sad as it made him, he wasn't truly sure he would have wanted to change it. He had ruins his boys' lives, but he had also taught them how to survive. How to survive in a world where monsters are very real. He taught them to kill the monsters. He only wished he would have known about all of this the night Mary died. Maybe he would have been able to save his family.

He sighed a loud tired sigh as he reached his truck. He opened up the back and retrieved a fresh shotgun fully loaded with rock salt. Of course, Mr. Wells was gone. But he stuck to his motto of always being prepared. Then he made sure he locked up his truck tight. He figured he would take his boys out of there in the Impala. It would be easier for them to get into. He would come back for the truck later.

Cautiously he made his way up the steps to the house, shining the flashlight along the broken boards, making sure to stay along the side where it was safe. When he reached the front door, he didn't even bother to try the handle. He simple lifted back his leg and kicked it open, shattering the frame. He smiled to himself. Even for an old man, he still had it.

He entered slowly, swinging the light side to side. He caught sight of Sam first, laying just to the right of the door. He bent to his side and shook his shoulder. "Sam? Sammy, can you hear me?" He was answered with a soft groan, but his son's eyes stayed closed. He patted Sam on the shoulder and then stood looking for Dean. As he spun he was shocked at what he saw. Dean lay slumped against the opposite wall, and sitting next to him on her knees was a little girl. A ghost. She was softly rubbing his arm. John raised the shotgun.

The little girl turned to him and softly said, "You killed my Daddy." John didn't respond, he simply stood ready to fire. "Thank you."

John couldn't hide his surprise. "Thank you?" He questioned.

She nodded. "My brother says we can leave now. You saved us." She looked from John back down to Dean. "I wanted to help him, but I don't know how. I thought I would sit with him until you came back."

John was still stunned, but he lowered his gun. "Thank you for that. But you can go now. Go be with your family. I'll take care of my boys."

The little girl nodded, looked sadly at Dean once more. "I'm sorry my Daddy hurt you." She whispered to him. Then she slowly faded away.

John hurried to Dean's side. "Dean! Dean can you hear me!" He lightly slapped Dean's bruised face. Dean made no response. John felt for a pulse and found a weak one. He was in much worse shape than Sam. Satisfied that all of the danger was passed, John set down his flashlight and shotgun. He rolled Dean onto his back and placed an arm under his shoulders and knees, then as gently as he could he lifted him up. John couldn't surpress a grunt as he lifted and began to walk. This wasn't as easy as it used to be when his boys were smaller. He gave Sam one last glance and then headed out to the car with Dean. He fished the keys to the Impala out of Dean's pocket and laid him in the backseat.

John then hurried back to the house for Sam. He couldn't hold back his gasp of joy when he walked back into the house and found Sam awake and trying to stand. "Hey kiddo. Take it easy." He walked to Sam and placed Sam's arm over his shoulder and then placed his arm around his waist. "Why don't you let Dad help you out."

Sam nodded. "Where's Dean?"

"Already in the car. Now come on, let's get you out there too."

Sam let John lead him out. When they were safely out of the house Sam asked, "Mr. Wells?"

John smiled, "Ashes."

"Bout time." Sam said weakly.

They had almost reached the car when John noticed Sam started to loose it. Just as Sam's legs gave out John scooped him up in the same manner he had Dean. "I got you kiddo." He whispered to his son, then placed him in the front seat.

"Sam, look at me." John said firmly as he leaned in the passenger doorway. Sam looked up at him with weak eyes. "We're gonna get out of here, but first I have to go back and make sure I get all of our weapons. I'll be back in just a minute. Stay here. You understand? Don't move."

"Yeah, I got it Dad." Sam said as his eyes closed and he leaned his head back against the seat.

John patted his leg, "Good boy." For a moment he stood and just looked at his sons. He only wished that he was the type of man who could express his love for them in a better way. They deserved so much more from life. He shook his head sadly then set back to the house. He gathered everything he could find as quickly as possible. When he got back to the car and loaded the trunk, he checked on Dean and Sam once more finding them both still out. He started up the Impala, and peeled out as he took off for the nearest motel where he could patch up his boys.

-TBC-

Okay all, last chapter will be up sometime this weekend. It will be better than this one. I just for some reason had trouble writing this one. So it didn't turn out great, but it's just a transition to the end. Thanks for reading.

P.S. The reviews have made my day! Thanks a lot! But go ahead...leave some more!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

John broke every traffic law getting them to the nearest motel. He knew enough medically to know that his boys were going to survive. They were in bad shape and would need bed rest for a while to come, but they would live. They didn't need a hospital. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. But every time he glanced at them, he became more unsure. Sam was had been physically beaten and he was sure his son had a major concussion. But at least every so often he opened his eyes and looked toward his Dad. Of course, his eyes were unfocused and he passed back out almost immediately, but he did open them. Dean on the other hand hadn't even stirred. John's mind was ablaze with worry over what those electric shocks had done to him. As much as he tried to stop the memory he kept flashing back to Sam's phone call the last time Dean had been electrocuted. No! Dean's heart was okay. It wasn't like that this time. He kept reassuring himself over and over. He could take care of his boys.

Finally after about a half hour the rundown motel came into view. John pulled up in front of the office, slamming on the brakes. He had to throw his arm across Sam to keep him from flying forward. Quickly he dug out a fake credit card and went inside to get a room. Thankfully the clerk was an old man and was tired, and didn't give John's haggard appearance a second glance. John raced back to the car and pulled it around back to their room. As he walked to the passenger side Sam began to stir.

"Dad?"

"I'm here Sam."

Sam blinked his eyes quickly a few times, trying to focus. "Where are we?"

John bent down and helped Sam out of the car to his feet. "At a motel. I just checked us in." He put a steadying arm around Sam's waist and led him to the door. He was thankful this was an old motel and used keys instead of those key cards. He hated those damn things. He could never get them to work. He flipped on the light when they made it through the door and deposited Sam on the first bed. Gently he helped him lay back. "Stay right here. I'm going to get your brother."

"Yes sir." Sam mumbled, out of habit, then let his head roll to the side and his eyes slide closed again as he relished being on the soft bed, and the soft feel of the pillow behind his head.

John opened the back door of the car and pulled Dean's arms until he was in a sitting position. Then he pulled him out of the car and slung him up over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. John was thankful it was such a late hour. He wasn't sure what explanation he would have came up with had someone saw him carrying two young men into a hotel room. Shoving the door closed with his foot he carried Dean to the other bed and laid him down.

For a moment John simply stood between his two boys and looked at them. He had to take a moment to get his emotions under control. He was useless to them if he was upset. Putting everything to the back of his mind, he set about to tend to his sons. He ran back out to the car retrieving the first aid kit. He opened it to check it and found everything fully stocked. He had taught his boys well.

He went to Sam first. As gently as he could he lifted Sam up and held him against his chest as he removed his jacket and shirt. Then he loosened his belt and removed his shoes and jeans. When Sam was left only in his boxers he rolled him over to his stomach. John's own stomach twisted into a knot at the site of the whip marks on his youngest's back. John wished for a moment that Wells had been human so he could have used his fists and beat him to death. As far as John was concerned, being salted and burned wasn't torture enough. Sighing loudly he got up and went into the bathroom. He filled the ice bucket with warm water and grabbed all the wash cloths and a couple of towels. He returned to Sam. He was thankful Sam was unconscious again. This was gonna hurt like a bitch.

First he wiped away the blood, then he disinfected the cuts. With a steady hand he threaded the needle and stitched the three worst wounds. He applied antibiotic cream and placed gauze along the cuts, taping it in place. He then rolled Sam back over and attended to the wound on his forehead. Thankfully that didn't require stitches. After making sure there were no more open wounds John gave his son the once over with his hands, checking for any broken bones. Sam moaned slightly when he ran his hands over his ribs, but not enough to signal anything broken. Besides his back and head Sam was just deeply bruised and roughed up. John was sure that within a couple of hours his son's body would be a mesh of black and blue. He made sure Sam was laying comfortably and pulled the covers up over him.

John first went into the bathroom and rinsed out the ice bucket adding fresh warm water. He then made his way to Dean. He had less open wounds than his brother, but he was also less responsive. His breathing was slow and his body weak and loose, pliable to every way John moved him. After addressing the minor cuts Dean had, he removed his clothing and covered him up the same way he had Sam.

John glanced at the clock and saw it was going onto 3:30 a.m. His own injuries were starting to grab his attention. After making sure the door was locked tight and a thin line of salt was placed in front, he checked on his boys again. Sam had moved around slightly, but was sleeping peacefully. Dean hadn't moved an inch, but his breathing seemed to be at a normal rate now. John decided this was as good as time as any to take a shower. He let the water turn as hot as it could. He stood under the hard spray and let it massage his aching muscles and wash away the grime of the night.

After showering he found himself a place in the most comfortable chair the room had to offer. He had brewed himself a strong cup of coffee and now sat sipping at it, determined to stay awake and keep an eye over his sons. Periodically Sam would begin to stir and mumble, waking up slightly. John immediately went to his side and placed a comforting hand on his chest murmuring words of comfort. After a while though, John could no longer hold his own eyes open, and sitting in his chair with his feet propped on Sam's bed, he fell asleep.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Later the next day Sam had finally fully woken up. John had disappeared earlier that morning, making a trip to the corner market for some food and something to drink. When Sam was able to sit up and focus, John managed to get some juice and crackers into him.

"How you doing?" John asked him.

"Other than feeling like my head is going to implode, I'm all right."

"Lean forward, I need to check your back." John said, sitting next to Sam on the bed.

As he leaned forward Sam glanced over to Dean's still form on the next bed. "How is he?"

John didn't respond for a moment. He patted Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Your back's looking good. It should heal pretty well in a couple of days." He stood to walk away.

"Dad? How is he?" Sam asked again.

John looked over at Dean and then back to Sam. "He'll be fine Sam. His body is just letting him sleep it off."

Sam wasn't sure if he believed his Dad or not. Dean didn't look well. His face was pale and he looked like a rag doll just lying there. "Has he woken up at all since we've been here?"

John sighed, "No Sam. But don't worry. Both of you are going to be just fine."

Sam nodded, feeling sleep begin to pull at him again. As much as he wanted to stay awake and talk to his Dad, revel in the moment because they were finally together, his eyes wouldn't cooperate. He laid his head back with a sigh and soon was dead to the world.

John sat and released a heavy sigh. His boys would be fine. He was sure of it. But there was also something else he was sure of. The longer he stayed, the more danger he placed them in. He thanked everything good that he had ran into his boys at that house. He would never be able to express how his heart broke for them when he saw them. He would never be able to express how thankful he was that someone was watching over all of them the other night and let them all out alive. He would never be able to express how good it felt to be in the same room with them. And he would never be able to express how it was going to break his heart when he had to leave, again.

Going through the drawer of the nightstand, he found a pad and a pen. His had trembled slightly as he held the pen. With water eyes, he began to write. He might be planning on sneaking out again, but this time he wasn't leaving his boys without a word.

-TBC-

Okay all, next chapter...the conclusion! Sorry if this chapter was boring. Things are always different in my head. But the next chapter will be full of that wonderful thing we all love...angst and brotherly love! lol


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

Sam awoke slowly as the sunlight began to filter through the shabby motel curtains. As he tried to roll his head and move his body, his muscles cried out, but the pain was not unbearable. He opened his eyes and stared at the stained ceiling above him. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Carefully he sat up. He looked quickly to the other bed and saw that Dean was still sleeping. But now he was on his side, so at least he had moved out of his comatose state. But when Sam looked around the room there was no sign of their father. "Dad?" He called softly. Slowly he got out of bed. He noticed that his and Dean's duffle bags were in the room. He glanced out the curtains and saw the Impala in the parking lot. He then made his way to the bathroom and opened the door. It was empty. There was no sign of his father any where. Then Sam noticed a piece of paper crumpled up by the garbage can. He picked it up and sat down in the chair unfolding it. When he realized what it was, his breath caught in his throat. _Not again, _he thought. He began to read.

_Boys,_

_I can't tell you how surprised I was to run into you. And I can't tell you how happy I was that it happened_. _Of course, I'm still pissed. I still can't believe you two went in there unprepared like that. Did I teach you anything?_

_I'm sorry. This wasn't meant to be a lecture. I'm writing this letter now, because I can't stand to leave without a word again. I need to tell you both things that I should have said long ago. I know you are going to be mad at me for leaving like this. I know you boys want things to be different. But as I explained to you before. It's just too dangerous to be around me. We are better off and safer apart. At least for now._

_I want you both to know something. I haven't been the best father, and I'm not going to start making excuses about how I did the best I could. That doesn't cut it. But I want you both to know, I have never been anything but proud of both of you. You are the best sons any father could hope for. You have never let me down. I let you down. In every way. I am sorry boys. I love you both so much. Someday, this will all be over. I only pray that day comes soon so you can both move on with your life and truly live. _

_Take care of each other. Remember I love you._

_Dad_

Sam didn't even try to stop the flow of tears as they landed on the rippled paper. His father had never been so open in his life. But why? Why write this and try to throw it away? Why leave now, before they were even awake. Sam's mind was buzzing with a thousand questions that would probably never be answered. His heart was aching. All this time he wanted to find their father so he could assert his revenge along side of him. Now...now he just wanted his father. He had been away for so long he had forgotten how good it felt to be near his dad. To have his arms around him, taking care of him. Why did it always have to come down to this? Why did the evil have to enter their lives? Sam looked over to Dean. How was he going to sit there and tell his brother that their father walked away from him without a word again? It wasn't fair. Sam felt like crumpling the paper back up and burning it. He was so angry. But then he thought that it would only be right to let Dean read it too. Dean needed to know how his father felt. Especially since the man didn't have the balls to say it to their face. Sam sat there, staring at the paper lost in his thoughts. Suddenly a low moan grabbed his attention. Dean was beginning to stir.

Sam hurried to his bed and sat next to him, helping Dean turn onto his back as he struggled to move. "Dean? Dean, come on man, wake up."

Dean's eyes fluttered then opened. "Sammy." He moaned out.

"Hey man, think you took a long enough nap?" Sam said as he reached out and placed a calming hand on Dean's shoulder.

"What...happened?" Dean asked, his eyes still trying to focus on his baby brother.

"What do you remember?" Sam asked, a little worried that Dean's brain might of gotten a little too fried.

Dean was quiet for a moment, his mind was working over time trying to replay the events. Then suddenly his eyes widened slightly, "Dad was here?" He asked.

Sam only nodded, bracing himself for the next question.

Dean lifted his head a little, his eyes darting around the room. "Where is he?"

Sam swallowed hard. "Dean...he's...he's gone man."

Dean regarded Sam with a skeptical look. "What do you mean gone?"

Sam caught on right away, "Oh no! He's not dead or anything! He just...god Dean, I'm sorry...but he just left again."

Dean nodded and laid his head back down, closing his eyes.

"Dean?"

"Mmmh?"

"You okay?"

"No."

Sam's heart dropped. "What's wrong?"

"Want to tell me what the hell happened that I feel like such shit?"

Sam shook his head. He didn't know why he thought his brother might actually talk about what happened with their dad. Oh no, that would mean he would have to show some emotional vulnerability. He couldn't believe Dean was even admitting to feeling 'like shit'. "Tell you what. Why don't you sit up, try drinking something for me, and I'll fill you in on the whole story."

Dean nodded and accepted Sam's help into a sitting position leaning against the back wall. Sam poured him a glass of the juice their dad had bought, as well as one for himself. Then he sat back next to Dean and told him everything that had happened over the last two days. As he told the story, Sam watched a flurry of emotions run across Dean's face. His brother didn't even try to hide them.

"Did I hurt you, or dad?" He asked.

Sam shook his head, "It wasn't you Dean. But don't worry, you didn't hurt us."

"And now? Are you okay Sammy?"

"Dad patched us up when he brought us here. I'll be fine." He patted Dean's knee. "And so will you. We both will."

"But he took off again?"

"Yeah" Sam answered sadly.

Dean let out a huff, "And why are we surprised?" He asked Sam, a smirk playing on his lips.

Sam smiled back. "Yeah, think we'd be used to this by now, huh?" He knew Dean was only trying to lighten the mood, and he didn't have the heart not to play along. "Oh!" Sam exclaimed, "But this time he did leave a note." Sam stood and quickly retrieved the paper. He tried to hand it to Dean to read, but Dean simply shook his head.

"It's all right Sam. I don't need to read it."

Sam was confused. The letter said so many good things. Things he was sure Dean needed to hear, just as much as he had. "But why?"

"Look Sammy. I know Dad loves us. He's doing what he thinks is best. It sucks. But we don't really have a choice in the matter. I don't need to read those words to know what that letter says. I've always known."

Sam smiled softly. "Fine. But I'll just tuck it away in my bag. In case...in case you change your mind."

Just as Sam was putting the letter away they heard a noise from the door. Someone was trying to open it. Dean immediately went for the knife under his pillow, only to discover it wasn't there. "Shit!"

Sam dove for their bag of weapons, retrieving a small pistol from the top. He stood and aimed for the door. Dean had managed to hobble out of bed and was at his side. And when the door finally opened, they both could have dropped right then and there at the sight before them.

"Dad!" Sam shouted, immediately dropping the gun as his surprised father threw his hands up in the air.

"You gonna shoot your old man Sammy?" John asked as he made his way in and shut the door. "Didn't think you boys would be awake yet. Damn good to see you both out of bed." But he ate his words as suddenly he saw Dean begin to slump, his knees giving out. He quickly ran to him and helped him back to the bed.

"Geez Dad, you scared the hell out of us!" Dean said.

"We thought you were gone." Sam said, sitting across from his father and Dean. "I got your note."

John looked a bit surprised. He thought he threw it away. He ignored Sam's comment. "Yeah, well, I had to go get my truck. "You boys feeling okay?" He asked looking back and forth between his sons. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable that they had read his letter.

"We're fine Dad." Dean told him. "You should have waited until we could drive you to your truck Dad."

"No worries kiddo. I hitch hiked."

"You what!" Both boys said in unison. "Who the hell would pick your scruffy butt up?" Dean asked.

"Hey," John said, pretending to be offended. "Your old man still has some charm left in him."

They all laughed for a moment, then a quietness settled around them. None of them knew exactly what to say next. How to ask the question about what they were going to do now. Stay together or split up?

John finally broke the silence. "Listen boys. I know I've done nothing but harp about us staying apart. And before you say anything, I still believe it's safer. But I've also discovered that you boys can be in just as much danger away from me too. I don't know that I could have lived with myself if something had happened to you two in that house. I thank God that I showed up when I did. And to be honest, I miss you boys. So...what I'm trying to say is..."

"We're gonna stick together." Sam finished for him, a wide smile forming.

"With a few conditions, yes. We're a good team boys. It's time we start acting like one."

"Yes sir." Dean and Sam said. This time Dean smiled too.

It was about damn time this family was back together.

The end

Thanks so much to everyone who read, and also to those who reviewed. It really helps to know what people think. I hope everyone enjoyed. I hope my ending was satisfying. I know I didn't follow the show, but like I said before...this is my own time line. So thanks again!

P.S.

I'll have a new story coming up this week. It's called The Watcher. Hope to see you then!


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